


Daughter of Strife and Serendipity

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: The Prince and the Bodyguard ‘Verse [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Adventure, Ajan Kloss, Alderaan, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Luke and Leia Switched, Avalanche, Battle, Black Squadron - Freeform, Black Sun (Star Wars), Body Armor, Chandrila, Character Death, Chases, Coma, Coming of Age, Confrontation, Courtship, Crait, Death Star, Drama, Dreams, Dysfunctional Family, D’Qar, Endor, Escape, Exegol, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fentakka, Final Order, Fire, First Order, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost(s), Force-Sensitive Finn, Funeral, Gore, Graphic Violence, Holochess, Home One, Horror Elements, Hoth, House Naberrie (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Hutts (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jakku, Jedi Council - Freeform, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Knights of Ren - Freeform, Landspeeder Chase, Library, Lightsaber Battles, Lightsabers, Loth-Cat, Loth-wolf - Freeform, Lothal, Lothal Jedi Temple, Love Confessions, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Marriage, Mataou, Meet-Cute, Memories, Millennium Falcon - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Movie: Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Movie: Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Movie: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Mustafar, Naboo - Freeform, New Jedi Order, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Peril, Rebellion, Resistance, Reunion, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Secrets Revealed, Shaak, Shili, Sith Citadel, Ski Speeders, Spy - Freeform, Starkiller Base, Stormtrooper Culture, Takodana, Tatooine, The Force, The Resistance Era, Thriller, Time Travel, Trauma, Undercover Missions, Varykino, Visions, Vulptex - Freeform, Wedding, X-Wing(s), Yavin 4, Zymod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 99,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Immensely troubled, Luke meets Ezra’s gaze.  “How did she...has she-”Ezra shakes his head.  “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”Luke glances over at his daughter.  Rey has yet to notice Luke’s arrival as she gathers herbs and flowers into her lap.Luke blows air out of his mouth.  He keeps his voice low, out of earshot.  “She’s the daughter of two powerful Force sensitives.  We should have expected this to happen.”
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Bail Organa/Breha Organa, Ezra Bridger/Luke Skywalker, Jobal Naberrie/Ruwee Naberrie, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Karé Kun/Temmin "Snap" Wexley, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Poe Dameron/Finn, Shara Bey/Kes Dameron
Series: The Prince and the Bodyguard ‘Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757050
Comments: 153
Kudos: 51





	1. Age 5

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the sequel to “The Prince and the Bodyguard.” This AU made me so popular that I had to continue with it! 
> 
> I’ll be rewriting the entire sequel trilogy save for a couple plot points to fit with my Skybridger twin swap AU. I want to thank everyone in advance for following along with me!
> 
> Tumblr: @toomanyfandoms99-ao3

For a Nubian lakeside property, Varykino has more stories to tell than walls can collect over several centuries. The story of the Naberries spanned generations, but as time twisted and expanded, Varykino became a palace of peace, a place of solace and freedom, a jewel in a vast expanse of darkness.

Varykino was a place that held secrets. It held untold stories of a love story turned sour, the origins of the galaxy’s greatest tragedy, which led to a war that lasted decades. An architect or a being of vast knowledge on Naboo’s history would never know that it is the site where war was waged and won. A war of hearts, a war of secrets, a war of worry.

But with that war came a bout of peace. The surroundings, the crystalline lake and rolling hills and kaleidoscope meadows, were the breeding grounds for armistices and vacations and a love that lasted for eternities. 

Only five years had passed since the family settled in Varykino, but Luke Organa-Bridger felt a century of peace flickered before his eyes like a romantic holofilm.

He winds around the cobblestone pathway that mingles with swaying grasslands and patches of red blossoms nicknamed ‘the Queen’s Heart’ by natives. 

A mauve songbird flaps past the patio in a blur. Luke blinks and steps underneath the tinted sun roof. He keys in his code to gain entry, stepping into the foyer. Two massive vases of multicolored flowers decorate both sides of the beige walls and wooden furniture. Luke suspects his daughter is responsible for the smattering of clashing colors in each cylindrical vase.

The door shuts behind him, and Threepio plods into the foyer. “Master Luke!” He stops in the open doorway to the left, where the kitchen has a glass door leading to the boundless backyard. “Master Ezra and Miss Rey are outside.”

Luke smiles; it is late afternoon and he returned home earlier than usual. “Thanks, Threepio.”

The golden protocol droid stands aside so that Luke can pass through the kitchen. He notes that packaged ingredients and spice bottles sit in a neat line on the counter in preparation for dinner. A bowl of freshly-picked fruits were on the counter as well, cutlery sitting on a hand towel after being washed.

As it always does, Luke’s heart skips at the sight. He never thought he would have a life as domestic as this, save for his job as Pooja’s advisor, so he never took these visuals for granted.

Luke slides open the glass door, shading his eyes so the mosaic tiles and glints of sunlight do not blind him temporarily. He squints and makes out the meadows preceding the glistening lake.

There is a sudden twinge in the Force. It tugs on his bond with Ezra, yanking him forward like the weaker end of a taut string. 

Luke’s heartbeat stutters, and he grasps onto his bond with Ezra. The instructions lay on the string, and he follows the direction that it takes him on, to the northwest section of the property.

A herd of Shaak are gathered in a semicircle around Ezra and Rey. Without registering what was happening, Luke broke out into a jog to eat up the distance.

When he halts a few feet away, he gasps.

A young Shaak was laying on its side, trunk nose breathing in pain. Luke catches no sight of blood, but senses a break in its leg.

His five-year-old daughter is sitting criss-cross by the young Shaak’s front legs. Her lilac play clothes are matted with soil and her thick brown-blonde hair falls out of a bun, dusting her upper back. A series of flowers and herbs rests in her lap, but most were already gathered in a pattern around the wound. 

And her hands lightly touch the Shaak’s leg. Her eyes are closed while she smiles, the sun sending a burst of radiance across her caramel skin.

Ezra sits a pace behind Rey in a powder blue tee and cargo pants, his mouth hanging open as he struggles to breathe normally.

Luke glides towards his husband, lowering himself to a crouch. Ezra blinks and turns towards him, registering his unexpected presence sharply.

Ezra’s wide eyes carry an expanse of dazzling cerulean nebulas painting the galaxy with shimmering wavelengths. He breathes, “are you seeing this?”

Rather than answer, Luke turns towards their daughter. Her eyes flutter open, her hair swaying from a sudden gust of wind. 

She emits a giggle as the young Shaak jolts, the broken leg twitching in a sideways motion. The Shaak’s bulbous eyes fixate on Rey, then back to the spectating herd.

With the buck of its legs, the young Shaak is on its feet.

Luke’s heart seizes.

The Shaak trudges to the large herd, the whole pack sounding calls through their trunk noses. After the brief display, the young creature is ushered over the hills by the herd, retreating for the night.

Immensely troubled, Luke meets Ezra’s gaze. “How did she...has she-”

Ezra shakes his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Luke glances over at his daughter. Rey has yet to notice Luke’s arrival as she gathers herbs and flowers into her lap.

Luke blows air out of his mouth. He keeps his voice low, out of earshot. “She’s the daughter of two powerful Force sensitives. We should have expected this to happen.”

“She’s five,” Ezra murmurs, “I thought we had more time.”

Luke frowns as Rey sets the array of flowers on the space where the young Shaak lay curled up in agony. “Me too,” he says wistfully.

Ezra says nothing. They would discuss it later.

Ezra raises his voice and sweetens his cadence. “Hey, honey! Look who’s home!”

Rey’s hair swoops as she turns. Her delicate face shines with the force of her smile.

“DADA!” She exclaims, standing in the span of a breeze and rushing to close the distance.

Rey collapses into Luke, causing him to laugh and lose his balance. His formal ivy-hued clothing is ruined by crushed grass and flower petals. He willingly tumbles to cause Rey to burst into giggles. She lays on his front as Luke’s back straightens on the grass. A wildflower tickles Luke’s cheek as he smooths away hairs from Rey’s forehead.

“Hey, baby,” Luke chuckles, thumb brushing across Rey’s smooth cheek, “good to see you too, my little ray of sunshine.”

“Dada,” she says, quieter and more commanding this time. Her face turns so her cheek rests against his chest. She listens to his heart beating, a habit she has practiced since she was a newborn.

After a moment of silence save for songbirds chirping and water flowing, Luke mumbles, “can I get up now, honey?”

Rey shifts and slides away from Luke. He sits up as Ezra stands. He offers Rey his hand, which she takes.

“Since you’re early,” Ezra says, “you can help cook.”

“Yeah!” Rey smiles brightly.

Luke grins in a wave of delirium. Despite the looming serious conversation that would have to take place that night, he learned to bask in his happiness when he was allowed it. He spent the majority of his younger years worrying about the war, so he learned not to sweat everything so much.

There would be changes to their peaceful lives on Naboo, but Luke would spend these hours delaying the eventuality without feeling guilty about it.

Luke stands, brushing grass from his formalwear. “Well,” he pats the top of Rey’s head to make her dimples crease, “lead the way, honey.”

Rey yanks Ezra and Luke by the hands towards the house. The couple laughs at her enthusiasm.

-

As soon as their bedroom door slides shut, Luke opens the closet. He hears Ezra do the same on his side of the room, and the silence festers.

Luke strips and changes into silver pajamas with his front facing the wall. Ezra rustles and shifts to procure a shirt and pajama pants.

They spent the last hour reading bedtime stories to Rey. She finally drifted to sleep when Luke glossed over her favorite story, about a teenage Duke who falls madly in love with one of his low-born waitstaff and gives up his crown to marry him. He is on the part when the lovers elope whilst in exile on a farmland when Rey succumbs to exhaustion.

Luke turns in his pajamas and peels away the duvet. He catches a flash of his husband’s backside while he smooths down a beige tee to match brown sweatpants.

Ezra turns sharply and pads over to his side of the bed. Luke lays on his side while Ezra tucks himself in, diving into the pillow. He holds out his palm expectantly.

Luke chuckles as Ezra’s long hair curtains over his lamplit face. He nearly forgot he had borrowed Ezra’s japor snippet for work; the design matched with his outfit earlier. 

He slips the chain over his head and drops the beloved necklace into Ezra’s hand. Somehow, Ezra manages to clip the japor snippet over his neck while sulking.

“Babe,” Luke’s brow quirks upwards, “come on.”

“I don’t wanna do this,” Ezra muffles, “I don’t wanna have this taken from us.”

Luke blanches. It was Ezra who had to convince him that it was the right choice to make when he proposed it three years ago. Rey was a toddling and giggling little monster, knocking over anything that wasn’t nailed down. Ezra brought up the fact that Rey’s powers would be difficult to handle on their own.

‘Being together helped us from losing control,’ Ezra said, ‘I want Rey to have someone her own age she can rely on and trust.’

Luke sighed, watching Rey climb into a lounge chair. She tries to hop over to the couch where they sat, but she nearly falls between the cracks. She catches herself and retreats into the lounge chair while laughing.

‘I want that too,’ Luke murmured, ‘I just don’t want to let go of her.’

‘We won’t be,’ Ezra emphasized, ‘we’ll be on Lothal with everybody else. We’ll have more help, more knowledge, more resources. It’ll be so good for Rey to have a massive family that cares for her.’

Luke pursed his lips. He had to remember: he gave up his own desires when Rey was born. His life was Rey’s, and everything he did was for her safety and security.

He nodded to Ezra. ‘You’ve convinced me. I told you that you were Senator material.’

Ezra snorted. ‘Only in your fantasies, love.’

‘Da!’

Luke beams down at Rey. She had slipped off the lounge chair and toddled to hug his leg. ‘Wanna come up, baby?’

He lifts her into his lap, and the memory fades. Ezra is hiding his face in the pillow, unmoving and waiting for Luke to reply.

Luke reaches out and rubs Ezra’s shoulder. His hands delve towards Ezra’s thick flowing hair, forefinger brushing aside a section from his cheek. Ezra does not look, lips curved into a deep frown.

“All that’s being taken from us is Naboo,” Luke says softly. “We will always be a family.”

“It won’t be the same,” Ezra says, “nothing will.” He sighs, curling in on himself. “I should’ve known better.”

Luke moves his hand to cup Ezra’s cheek. He does not make to nudge Luke away, so his thumb catches on Ezra’s bronze cheekbone.

“We’ve been so happy,” Luke agrees, “it feels like a dream. The most beautiful dream. I don’t want to let it go, either. But,” Ezra’s glistening eyes meet Luke’s, “it’s not about us, love. You know that.”

Ezra sniffles, darting to stare down at the pillow. “That doesn’t make it any less hard. We have to tell her, and I’m not ready to do that.”

“Me neither,” Luke answers honestly, “but dreams don’t last forever, as much as we want them to.”

Ezra exhales through his wide nose, nudging Luke’s hand away. With a shocking quickness, his strong arm tosses around Luke’s middle and reels him closer.

Ezra burrows into Luke’s neck. “Hold me,” he whispers.

Luke gulps at the phrase. It sounds familiar, though Ezra has never used it before. The syllables float in his mind, an echo of a woman’s voice whispering the words to another man.

‘Hold me,’ the woman whispers into the man’s chest, ‘like you did by the lake on Naboo. So long ago when there was nothing but our love. No politics, no plotting, no war.’

He holds his breath when he knows who that voice belongs to, and Ezra shifts to face Luke.

“What?” Ezra studies Luke’s expression, thick brows furrowing. “What was that?”

Luke blinks on his drawn-out exhale. “You heard that too?”

“Yeahhhh…why wouldn’t I have?”

Luke casts his gaze downwards. He pokes around in the Force, at the memory that wasn’t his, and finds a glowing string in the tangle of the galaxy. 

In fact, now that Luke was studying the star charts that mapped the known galaxy, several of these strings appeared out of nowhere. They were shining blue, a manifestation of something indescribable.

“What…” Luke breathes to himself, closing his eyes to examine the strings, “those are new.”

“What is?” Ezra shifts his head down. “Luke?”

“Something weird is going on,” Luke says, eyes widening in alarm, “you heard that voice too?”

“Yeeeees,” Ezra says confusedly, “why? What’s the matter?”

“That voice,” Luke reveals, “is my mother’s.”

Ezra narrows his eyes. “That’s not possible. We can only hear the voices of other Force users.”

“Could be,” Luke swallows, “it could be possible. I mean...it’s my mother. It’s...it’s her. And that must mean,” he worries his lip, “she was speaking to my father.”

Ezra says nothing. Whenever Anakin Skywalker or Darth Vader is mentioned, Luke’s emotions become an open wound in seconds.

Despite all the pain Anakin caused, Luke could not help but feel he failed in saving his father. His shame was unbearable.

“That could make sense,” Luke says hesitantly, “because the memory includes a Force user. Other than that,” Luke huffs, “oh, I can’t think about this anymore. We have to think about Rey.”

Ezra nods, but his expression betrays his worry. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, alright? This was enough for one night, don’t you think?”

Luke hums, mustering a smile. “Okay.” He snuggles into Ezra’s taller form. “Good night, love.”

Ezra kisses Luke’s head. “Good night.”

Neither of them sleep very much, but neither calls the other out on the bluff.

————

Rey Organa-Bridger loves it when the Naberries come for dinner at the house. It is the only time she feels like she is a part of something bigger, something bold and beautiful. She feels like herself when she listens to Lola play her Dada’s piano, when Ryoo and Pooja teach her elaborate hairstyles, when Sola tutors her about Naboo and Jobal and Ruwee help her prepare traditional meals.

But her favorite person by far is Sabé. She answered any question that Rey had without telling her she was too young or inexperienced to know the reply. Sabé taught her how to play cards and comfort the animals so they wouldn’t be scared by the presence of a humanoid.

Tonight, though, something is different. Before the meal is ready, Papa ushers Rey into Dada’s office. Dada makes an excuse to Pooja about needing to refresh his wardrobe, which is strange, because Dada just switched into a rosy tunic.

Before Rey can ask, the office door shuts and Papa says, “sit on the couch, honey.”

“But-”

“Honey,” Dada emphasizes.

Rey closes her mouth and pads to the couch near Dada’s desk. She clamors on the cushion and Papa sits, gathering her close. Dada kneels before them, his expression wary.

“Rey,” Dada clears his throat, “we wanted you to know something before anyone else. It’s very important that you don’t tell them before we do, okay?”

Dada looks serious. It upsets Rey, so she nods.

“Okay,” Dada glances up at Papa, “am I doing this alone?”

Papa shifts so Rey is partially on his lap. Used to the affection, Rey hugs his middle.

“Baby,” Papa tips his head down and brushes away Rey’s hair so she sees his face, “Dada and I have decided that we’re moving away.”

“Moving,” Rey sounds out, “where? A new house?”

Papa shakes his head. “No, honey. Off-planet.”

“NO!” Rey is wracked with the image of her entire world being taken away. She wrenches away from Papa and curls up on the opposite side of the couch. “No!” She hugs a pillow and buries her face into it. “I’m not leaving!”

There is silence. Rey knows that her parents are staring, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care if she screams and shouts and makes a scene.

Her parents want to take her away! She wasn’t going to see anyone ever again! No more Sabé, no more aunties, no more cousins. Nothing!

“This isn’t the end, Rey,” Dada murmurs, shuffling over to kneel beside her, “you can talk to everyone here whenever you want, okay?”

Rey sniffles into the pillow.

“Honey,” Papa’s hand comes to rub her back, “we’re going to stay with the rest of our family on Lothal. You’ll be the farthest thing from alone. You remember your family, right?” 

Rey remembers some of them. She has an Aunt Leia who stayed here after her cousin Ben was born. She has Ahsoka who always brought her a gift: a tooka doll, a beaded necklace, a conch shell from her home planet. She has two older cousins, Poe and Jacen, and a slew of aunts and uncles. But she can’t put faces to every name, as they appeared in scattered vacations throughout her life.

“Honey,” Papa says, fixing her messy hair while she uncoiled from the pillow, “I know you’re scared and angry and upset. You have a right to be. All we can say for now is…”

He stops. Rey blinks so she won’t burst out crying. She drops the pillow and swivels to observe her parents looking at each other.

Dada turns to Rey. “Do you remember when you healed the Shaak yesterday, baby?”

Rey bobs her head.

“Well,” Dada holds her hands on the couch cushion as he peers up, “not everyone can do that. You’re a very special girl, with very special powers.”

“Powers,” Rey sounds out the word.

“Yes,” Dada smiles, “our family has a lot of special beings. Those of us with powers help those who do not. Does that make sense?”

Rey thinks it does.

“But in order to help,” Dada says gently, “we have to practice, train, and control our powers. You were able to heal the Shaak, and that was wonderful, but,” he pauses, “did you feel...a little weird, afterwards?”

“I was tired,” Rey admits, fearing it is the wrong answer.

“Tired,” Papa scoots closer to Rey on the couch, “that’s normal, honey. It’s fine. Why didn’t you say?”

Rey mumbles, “I dunno.”

“Baby,” Dada gains her attention, “as proud of you as I was at seeing you heal the Shaak, I don’t want you to get tired. You can hurt yourself, and I never want that to happen, okay?”

Rey wants to ask how she could hurt herself, but it isn’t the time. Her Dada and Papa are in as much pain as she is, and she doesn’t want to add to it.

“Okay,” Rey says.

“Okay,” Papa gathers Rey into a hug, squishing her tight to make her giggle, “my baby girl, for being so good, is getting extra dessert.”

Rey emits a cheery tone as Papa kisses the top of her head. She almost forgets about them moving. 

Almost.

————

Ezra Bridger-Organa is a spectre as he listens to the business talks that trail through Varykino. Even from the backyard, where Ezra tries to escape the noise with Rey, the discussions carry through the glass and float into the summer breeze. Even from their bedroom, where Ezra reads Rey her favorite story, it does not drown out the terse arguments.

Ezra didn’t expect the Naberries to take this so hard. He really didn’t.

“...and the waiter does as he is told. He serves food to all the royals in all the lands,” Ezra reads to distract himself, Rey smiling to encourage him onwards, “and, as the Duke requested, he waits for the party to be over. He waits all night while the Duke greets all those who came to see him and wish him well. He waits until all the guests go to their palaces. He waits until all the other waiters are dismissed. He waits until the Duke emerges from his room and runs to him.”

This is the part that always made Ezra’s eyes glaze over. This is the part that reminds him of a long-gone past. The Force told him he should not fester in these places, but the story made them unavoidable.

“The waiter sinks into the Duke’s embrace,” Ezra recounts gently. “The waiter smiles and says, ‘I was worried you would never come.’ And the Duke replies, ‘I will always come back to you.’”

A lump forms in Ezra’s throat. No matter how many times he read this aloud to Rey, every line hurt. Every word cut like glass. Every page ripped out a piece of his heart like stripping away bark from a tree.

This story was old. Centuries old. It doesn’t make sense how similar it is to the real life love story of Luke Organa and Ezra Bridger, but he supposes it is more than just a tall tale.

Ezra senses Luke is disgruntled, his mind a web of complex thoughts. He looks over at Rey, who blinks as if in understanding.

“Papa,” Rey asks, “is that Dada?”

Ezra’s breaths become shallow. “Yes,” he exhales, “yes it is, honey.”

He ducks his head to conceal the emotions brewing behind his eyes. He has no idea how the Force comes to Rey so easily, but he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to discover the root cause.

He closes the worn book and sets it down. He splays out his palms on the carpet and pushes himself to his feet. “Stay here, Rey. Finish the book yourself.”

Rey frowns at the order, but acquiesces by bringing the book closer to her on the carpet. She flips open the page where Ezra left off as he exits the bedroom.

He walks through hallways and rooms until he can hear them.

“-nothing I can do that will change your mind?” Ryoo asks.

“Ryoo,” Pooja sighs, “he seems pretty set on leaving. You’re making him feel terrible.”

Ezra stands in an open archway designating the sitting room. Luke is dressed impeccably as always, a white cape encapsulating his navy-hued formalwear. His silver wedding ring, a tradition where both exchanged old metal from their lightsaber hilts, shone brightly on his finger.

Even thinking about their ten-year anniversary last week was a lifetime ago…

Ezra crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the archway. The set in Luke’s jaw is tight, his lips pressed together so he did not say anything rash.

As strong as they both were in the Force, as much control as they had over their abilities, it did not mean Luke was impervious to the emotion known as anger. It ran in his blood, and stifling its course would worsen the conditions.

“How about this,” Pooja sits beside Luke, “you become my ambassador.”

Luke’s mind reels behind his eyes. He peers over Pooja’s side.

He asks Ezra, “what do you think?”

Pooja and Ryoo bristle, swiveling towards Ezra. They had not heard him approach, but Luke always knew when he was close without giving an indication through body language.

As for the job offer, Ezra could register the perks and restrictions. Luke wouldn’t mope around on Lothal, leaving Ezra to take on his job as a Jedi instructor without worrying over his husband. 

The major problem, however, would be the travel aspect. But Ezra is sure Luke will negotiate to remain on Lothal with his family whenever possible.

Considering this option, Ezra answers, “it would be good for you.”

Luke inhales sharply at the reply. “What?”

“See?” Ryoo gestures to Ezra and smirks. “Your shrewd husband understands.”

“However,” Ezra emphasizes, causing Ryoo to pause, “I won’t give him up for long periods of time. I’m not doing that to Rey.”

Ryoo looks at her sister, who nods.

“Agreed,” Pooja says to Ezra, “we’ll go over parameters in the contract.”

“So?” Ryoo smiles hopefully at Luke. “Does it sound good?”

Luke stares at Ezra, who sends him encouragement and mutual agreement through their Force bond.

He is not satisfied, however. He opens their mental link.

‘Darling,’ Luke says to Ezra’s mind, ‘I don’t want to leave you.’

Ezra frowns. ‘You’ll go mad on Lothal if you don’t work.’

‘I can teach,’ Luke points out.

‘Yes,’ Ezra murmurs, ‘but I have never seen you more happy being Pooja’s advisor.’

Luke pauses as he tilts his head. ‘This will be higher stakes.’

‘I’m sure you’ll handle it.’ Ezra implores, ‘they need your help. They wouldn’t fight you on this if they didn’t realize your talent.’

He knows he has Luke now.

Luke turns to address Pooja and Ryoo. “I’ll do it.”

Ezra pads back towards Rey as Pooja and Ryoo thank Luke profusely and discuss terms.


	2. Age 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is dragged by men in white armor. They squeeze her arms so hard that she whines and kicks. Her boots scrape against the hard floor as she is thrown outside the house.
> 
> The sun blares, blinding her while figures in white armor drag away a man and a woman in purple and red clothing. They are forced to their knees in front of a sandstone wall.
> 
> “For crimes against the Empire and inciting civil protest,” a white armored man says through a garbled device, “you are all sentenced to immediate execution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shira May is an OC from my “Postbellum” series. She’s only going to show up on occasion as a friend for Rey. It’s not AU stealing if you’re stealing from yourself!
> 
> For clarification on Rey’s POV:  
> Dada/Dad = Luke  
> Papa = Ezra

Rey is dragged by men in white armor. They squeeze her arms so hard that she whines and kicks. Her boots scrape against the hard floor as she is thrown outside the house.

The sun blares, blinding her while figures in white armor drag away a man and a woman in purple and red clothing. They are forced to their knees in front of a sandstone wall.

“For crimes against the Empire and inciting civil protest,” a white armored man says through a garbled device, “you are all sentenced to immediate execution.”

Rey adjusts to the blazing heat. She is doubled over on the scorched ground. She breathes and looks down at her clothing. She is wearing a matching orange-yellow shirt and pants scuffed with dirt. 

When she stares at her own hands, she gasps.

These are her Papa’s hands. Small and child-sized, but the same shade of copper that held her close and tied her hair into braids every morning.

Rey looks away from the hands, squinting to focus on the wall. It is stained with blaster fire, and the man and woman stand beside a dozen scared adults. 

The men in white point blaster rifles at them, and her heart goes still.

None hesitate to fire. The bolts hit their targets, and each body against the wall crumples to the ground.

Panic and immense pain that is not her own surges into her borrowed vessel. Her legs struggle to straighten in front of the house. She smells smoke as heat prickles the hairs on her skin.

She turns. The house is on fire.

She exhales, and the body hones in on a nearby shuttle bay. It is a long run, but she could make it.

The boy runs, Rey’s mind whooshing. She can barely hear the sound of shouting armored men or register the heat of blaster bolts sizzling too close to her shoulders.

The boy that was her Papa runs with a speed that should be impossible. Her Papa was a fully-functioning hyperdrive on foot!

The world is a blur around her as he runs, emotions shifting and rising at a rampant rate. She never knew someone could feel so much all at once.

Her surroundings do not return to her until he enters a shuttle bay. Men wearing orange with a red crest on their arms cause a wave of relief to medicate her Papa’s body. 

He locates a shuttle with the same symbol on it as soldiers exit. He creeps around crates and finds a window to enter the starship.

When he is safe, the shuttle closing, her Papa hides in the cargo bay. The minutes are hours. The hours are days.

The cargo doors open, and an auburn-haired woman wearing white is the first person her Papa sees.

Rey gasps, her mind shifting out of the memory. The Force attaches a veil to the front of her eyes to impair her sight.

There is a clicking sound inside her bedroom. She sits up in bed just in time for a Loth-cat to climb into her lap.

“Mrow,” her massive eyes peer up at Rey curiously.

Rey exhales deeply. She retrieves a hand from underneath her gray blanket and rubs her finger pads across the Loth-cat’s enlarged head. Her tail swishes, and Rey scratches her ear while she thinks.

That memory was her Papa’s, but it didn’t make any sense. Why that memory? What was the Force trying to tell her?

Rey’s pet cocks her head to the side, as if amused she was questioning the Temple. 

Oh. She forgot.

Rey erects her mental shields in a long breath. The Loth-cat emits another “meow” and hops off the bed. She cracks open the old door and slinks into the hallway.

Rey peels away the gray blanket and sets her feet on the cold floor. She hisses before warmth covers her bare feet, standing in her purple robes. It is dawn, so the older trainees are awakening to begin lightsaber practice with Ahsoka and Kanan.

Undeterred by the traffic, Rey exits her room and pads down the hallway in her sleepwear, mousy hair untamed.

Three doors down, a red-skinned Twi’lek two years older than Rey, named Shira, interrupts her stride.

“Hey!” Shira greets cheerily, wearing her trademark maroon robes. “Are you alright? You’re not dressed.”

Rey shakes her head. “I need to speak with my Papa.”

“Oh,” Shira frowns in concern, piercing green eyes trying to decipher her mental state, “he’s in his rooms, I think.”

“Good,” Rey sighs in relief, “I’ll see you.”

“Right,” Shira chimes, “see you around.”

Rey has to be careful when projecting emotions. There are too many susceptible parties in this Temple.

She rounds the corner and stands in front of her parents’ door. “Papa?”

The door slides open. Dada looks down at her. “Rey? What’s wrong?”

Rey sidesteps past him to enter their room. Dada frowns as he keys the door closed. She hears water flowing in the fresher, so she plops in the middle of the floor to wait.

“Rey?” Dada crisscrosses in the middle of the floor across from her. She catches a whiff of his scent, a mixture of starfruit and saltwater. He wears gray robes that drown out his skin tone and cause streaks of silver to play about his blonde head. “Is something the matter?”

“Patience,” Rey says, mimicking Dada’s meditative position.

He chuckles. “I can wait for as long as you want, dear.”

Rey cannot manage a smile. Ever since they moved to Lothal, her life changed a tremendous amount. She had to adjust to living with dozens of minds alongside her own in close proximity, a far cry from isolation on Naboo with her parents. She had to meet and befriend her family with mixed results. She had to adopt an unfamiliar culture, wear the clothing, and educate herself on the ways of the Force. 

On top of the immense changes, she had to deal with Dada going on monthly diplomatic missions where he was away for five out of thirty standard days; a small percentage, but one she felt keenly due to their familial Force bond. Papa was amazing at filling the void, and Dada Force projected to speak with them face-to-face, but it was not the same. Nevertheless, Rey and Papa did their best to pretend Dada was simply gone for a usual shift at work and busied themselves with meditation practice.

With all of these moving parts, Rey still had to take her training very seriously. As young as she may be, she was told by Aunt Leia that her powers exceed most others in the Temple and require severe discipline.

The water shuts off, and Dada sits in silence with her. Moments pass, and the fresher door slides open.

Papa wears black robes, his cerulean-raven hair swept up in a bun and his new beard trimmed. Dada’s heart stammers at the sight of him smelling of fresh herbs and spring soil, skin bronzing due to the sunrise streaming through a side window. The sight brings Rey comfort as well, especially when he smiles at the two of them together.

“Hello, my little Loth-cats.” Papa glides to ruffle her messy hair before crouching beside Dada. He makes to brush the back of his hand against Dada’s cheek, but he captures Papa’s fingers and kisses his knuckles instead. Papa smiles in amusement as he asks, “are we doing a round of morning meditation before classes?”

“It seems that Rey has something to tell us,” Dada says, holding Papa’s hand between them.

“Is that right?” Papa sits beside Dada and crosses his legs fluidly. “And what’s that?” He asks Rey.

The images flash behind Rey’s eyes, and she sucks in a breath. Her parents look content, so she doesn’t want to do this, but she must.

Her answer tumbles out in an exhale. “I dreamt I was Papa watching his parents die.”

Papa’s entire face changes. He blinks, and his expression twists into someone she hardly recognizes, someone wracked with echoes of memories that hurt him deeply. Dada squeezes his hand, watching Papa absorb the information and form a response.

“Rey,” Papa parses out slowly, “were you inside my body?”

Dada stares in alarm at the two of them.

“Ezra,” Dada murmurs, “you remember something that wasn’t there before, don’t you?”

Papa’s eyes glisten, and it scares Rey. Papa senses this and softens. He says gently, “you did nothing wrong, honey. What you’re seeing is my past.”

“Oh,” Rey says. She pauses. “Is that...okay?”

Papa frowns, exhaling through his wide nose. He reaches out to brush Rey’s bed head. “Oh, I’m so sorry you had to see that. I don’t know why you saw that, but the Force is mysterious, Rey. The answer will present itself in time.”

Dada opens up his arms. “Come here. It’s okay.”

Rey climbs in Dada’s lap; he gives out the best hugs.

Dada holds her close, wrapping her in a blanket of warmth. She buries herself in the hearth that is her Dada’s Force presence. 

Papa, not one to be left out, wraps his arms around them both. He traps Rey between them, causing her to smile.

“Can’t cuddle without me,” Papa mumbles, kissing Dada’s cheek and rubbing Rey’s back to soothe her.

Dada gleams. “I love you both very much.”

Rey and Papa hum in agreement. They stay in the embrace without moving until Aunt Leia knocks on the door.

————

Ezra spins the silver wedding ring on his finger, shutting himself inside one of the Temple’s meditation rooms. Under the cover of night, artificial lights guide him to the center of the circular pattern on the floor.

After Rey retired to her room for the night, Ezra murmured to Luke, ‘I have to make inquiries with the Force.’

Luke nods in agreement, rising to tiptoes to press their lips together. Ezra’s lashes flutter as he studies the depths of his husband’s eyes, the sea of emotions that simmer at any given moment.

‘Don’t stay up too late,’ Luke whispers, ‘I can’t sleep without you.’

Ezra doesn’t have it in him to voice a playful quip. It is true enough for the both of them; the Temple was full of so many Force presences, so many walking distractions, that the ability to rest comfortably was more difficult than anticipated.

‘Promise,’ Ezra said. After checking Rey’s calm sleep pattern across the hall, he turned away from Luke and went to the meditation room.

Ezra criss-crosses in the middle of the circle, studying the wooden etched rings cast in varying degrees of distance away from each other. He flicks on the holo recorder in his pocket. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, falling into the dark space while the artificial lights burn streaking dots into the back of his eyelids.

‘Is he awake?’

‘No, but his heartbeat is strong.’

‘Doctor, when do you think-’

‘Soon. Very soon.’

The memory crashes, and Ezra gasps as the white lights expand. They fold into a blank wall, ceiling lights burning on the face of-

‘Luke,’ eighteen-year old Ezra mutters to himself.

Ezra is curled up in the corner of Luke’s master bedroom on Alderaan, hiding in the shadow his seat provides. His adoptive parents, Bail and Breha Organa, question the doctor over Luke’s comatose body. The low whispers blur, in accordance to the garbling in his ears.

He is a thirty-two year old grown man in a young adult’s body. Time reminds him of this moment, even though it never occurred until now.

He feels everything that he felt then: anguish that Luke was hurt, guilt that Ezra couldn’t help, and a slight dose of joy that Luke was safe, that he confessed his love for Ezra before he faced Vader in the Senate.

He rises from his seat, the image fading as he exits the bedroom and enters the hallway.

‘Ezra?’

Through glistening eyes, Winter, Evaan, and Wedge swim in the hallway. Their conversation was cut short by his arrival, all three wearing simultaneous concerned expressions.

So this part stayed the same.

‘Hey,’ Winter steps forward, since she knows Ezra best out of the trio, a hand resting on his shoulder, ‘don’t cry, Ezra. He’ll be okay.’

A tear slips down, cold on Ezra’s scarred cheek. This is the only time Winter has been warm towards him, even in the present day, as she preferred to distance herself from everyone except Evaan.

‘Oh,’ Winter hugs him, albeit awkwardly, ‘this isn’t your fault. Luke can be a bit of an idiot, in case you forgot.’

Ezra sniffles. ‘Yeah,’ he nudges away, ‘he is.’

Winter smirks. Ezra sucks in a breath and wipes away the tear with a hard swipe.

‘I’ll be back,’ he says. 

As he trudges away, Ezra is plucked out of his younger body. The artificial lights return, and he is back in the dark meditation room.

He focuses on the lights, and blue energy blends out of them. The blue shimmers, taking the form of a humanoid. The holographic quality sharpens out features, and Ezra is soon facing a Force ghost.

The man looks to be in his twenties, younger than Ezra in body, but older in mind. The man is slender and tall, wearing black robes to match shoulder-length brown hair. His eye is marred with a thin red scar trailing from brow to cheekbone.

“Oh,” he says, “I’ve never done this before. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“Um,” Ezra studies the man, “do I know you?”

“Uh,” the man ducks his head sheepishly, “sort of? I-I was trying to find my son or my daughter.”

Ezra narrows his eyes. “How old are you? Jedi don’t have children.”

“How old?” The man hesitates. “Uh...I was in the Clone Wars?”

Ezra lurches in fascination. “Really? That must make you middle-aged. And...you have children?”

“Yes,” the man smiles, “I’ve been trying to talk to them for years, since I died. I have a grown son and a daughter. Twins.”

Ezra’s heart seizes. The hand of Time squeezes him in a vice grip, holding him in this place, this moment.

His heart stutters on an exhale. His hands, which he didn’t know were clenched together, release in another breath.

He is looking at Darth Vader, now Anakin Skywalker. 

“O-oh,” Ezra stammers, “you were converted back to the Light.”

Anakin shifts nervously. “Y-Yes. Do you…” He stares at Ezra for a moment. “Oh!” His eyes widen in recognition. “I know you!” He beams, and it reminds Ezra too much of Luke. “My son’s bodyguard! Oh! Thank the stars! I found them!” He steps forward with urgency. “I need to talk to them. Please? I need to tell them something.”

Ezra is instantly wary. Anakin seems kind enough, but Luke’s safety will always take precedent. Luke rarely talks about what occurred on Endor, so bringing it up unless unavoidable is imperative to Luke’s mental state.

“You can tell me,” Ezra decides, “and I’ll tell them.”

Anakin’s face falls. “Oh. O-okay.” He clears his throat. “I get it. Um.” He collects himself. “Before I get into it, I want to tell Luke and Leia that...I want to thank them for saving me. I want to thank Leia for snapping me out of it, and I want to thank Luke for believing in me when no one else did.”

Ezra bobs his head, holding back an expression of surprise. Distinguishing Vader from Anakin was getting easier by the minute.

“Okay,” Ezra asks, “what’s going on in the Force?”

Anakin sighs. “Well...not sure how to start this, but, since you’re the only one any of us can get a lock on…” He drops to a crouch and mirrors Ezra’s stance, crossing one leg over the other.

With Anakin settled in the second innermost ring, Ezra catches details of his features. Ezra can make out his husband’s jawline, the shape of his nose, the colors in his eyes.

Anakin grows serious. “There is something very wrong with Time. And it seems that you are the Jedi best suited for untangling the memories.”

Ezra’s brows climb. “Me?”

“Yes,” Anakin clips, “you are the only one that the dead can contact without becoming lost in the past. Or future, depending on how you look at it.”

Kenobi told Ezra before Endor that he and Rey would be important after the war. But he doesn’t think that Kenobi predicted this would happen, for all of his knowledge and wisdom of the Force.

“My superior Jedi have many theories to resolve this,” Anakin says, “but even Yoda cannot tell for certain what will work yet. So,” he huffs, “you lived through a memory, and it disappeared. You were brought back here, right?”

“Yes.”

“If that works,” Anakin mutters, “then I guess that poodoo Quinlan Vos was correct for once in his life.”

“Who’s Bantha fodder?” Ezra asks.

Anakin is surprised by Ezra’s flawless Huttese to Basic translation. “Just a frenemy of my Master,” Anakin waves a hand, “doesn’t matter. If you can sail through the memory without changing anything, you should get pulled out of it. We don’t know why this is happening, and I can’t tell you when the Force will tell us, if it even will, but you have to do your best here. You have the power to control your memories and gain a handle on Time.”

“And how do I do that?”

“That’s the problem.” Anakin shrugs. “No other Jedi can control Time. No one except you.”

“What?” Ezra shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“You are the only one that has the answers,” Anakin beseeches, “and you have to figure it out. You have to look within yourself. There’s something causing all of this, and it has something to do with you, but none of us can help you. We don’t even know what we’re looking for. And I know,” he leans forward, “I know how frustrating that sounds to you. I know better than anyone, alright?”

“How’s that?”

Anakin lowers his head. His voice is quiet. “I started a war because of a prophetic vision. I can tell that gift in particular passed on to Luke, and thankfully, he takes after his mother. The point is,” he sighs, “I failed to stop my wife from dying in childbirth, and I ruined the galaxy for generations to come because of one mistake: thinking I could change fate. I suppose I am your,” he pauses, “cautionary tale.”

“If you told all of this to my husband,” Ezra says, “you would have gained his trust rather than his distaste.”

“Husband?”

Ezra blinks. “Kriff.” He blushes and curls up a little. “Wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“It’s okay,” Anakin chimes, “I was bantha shit. I don’t deserve your trust.”

Ezra stares at Anakin uncertainly. The man is unfazed at the proclamation. He uncoils and faces Anakin, who registers the silver wedding ring on Ezra’s clenched hands.

“Now,” Anakin says breezily, the same tone Luke takes when he is nonplussed, “as your cautionary tale, I need you to know that nothing you could do to try and fix Time could possibly be any worse than what I did. Seriously. You just have to take the memories as they come and find a way to eject yourself out without changing anything.”

“Yeah,” Ezra says sardonically, “doesn’t sound difficult to mess up at all.”

“See?” Anakin stands. “You’ll be alright. Until next time,” he mutters, “whenever that may be.”

Anakin becomes a hologram, fizzling out and entering the artificial lights. The blue light disappears in a wink, leaving Ezra alone in the dark meditation room.

Ezra untucks his legs and rises to his feet, clicking off the holo recorder. When he passes the wooden rings on the floor, he mutters to himself:

“Fuck.”

-

“Ezra,” Kanan sighs as he enters the Council room in pajamas, “this better be really good. It’s two in the kriffin’ morning.”

“I am aware of the time,” Ezra says, “and it is, His High Grumpiness. What,” he scoffs as Kanan lowers himself in the chair tactilely, “did you have a sexy night with Hera planned?”

Kanan shoots him a dark look without even using his blind eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged you to speak to your mind as much. That’s foolish in front of the children.”

“Please,” Ahsoka snickers as she enters in cream-colored nightclothes, “you’re one to talk about foolish, Jarrus.”

As the Togruta senses the seriousness in Ezra’s expression, she glances over at the man by his side. 

“Luke,” she poses, “why is Ezra so jumpy?”

Ezra told Luke an abridged version of what happened in the meditation room. Luke was understandably conflicted and disturbed by what Ezra recounted to him. Ezra hadn’t forgotten to relay Anakin’s personal message to Luke, and his husband was indeed surprised by it. As Ezra hit the high points of his conversation with Anakin, Luke became increasingly frightened at an unseen enemy rising to attack them.

‘I always knew you would be important to the Force,’ Luke said, ‘but can none of us really help you?’

Ezra shrugged.

Luke sighed. ‘Where does Rey come into all of this? Why can’t they leave our baby alone?’

Ezra frowned; he wished he knew, but that part of the equation was a glaring mystery. ‘They didn’t leave us alone when we were children,’ Ezra murmured, ‘wars are the same that way.’

Luke reaches out to Ezra’s chair in the Council room, taking his hand. Ezra rubs his thumb over Luke’s knuckles, drawing comfort from his husband’s Force presence.

Luke replies to Ahsoka, “where’s my sister?”

Leia pads in wearing Han’s old pajamas with askew hair. “Sorry,” she drops into the final vacant seat, “it’s hard to get a mischievous four year old to sleep. You know how it is.” She clears her throat, brushing hair away from her face. “So, Ezra, what’s up, my guy?”

Ezra was glad he had the foresight to slip a recorder in his pocket before meditating. So many crazy unbelievable things happened in the Force that it was easier to record sessions and leave out disbelief as well as guesswork.

“Well,” Ezra retrieves the recorder from his robes and sets it in the middle of the holo table, “this’ll get you to wake up.”

Without ceremony, Ezra turns on the recorder. A holo of the meditation room, Ezra sitting in the circular center, begins to play. 

Since the other Jedi were filled in on Rey’s dream during lunch earlier that day, they understood this was the encounter where Ezra sought answers. None of the others thought much about Rey’s dream, figuring it to be a vision, but they would be proven wrong.

Holo Ezra speaks his dialogue from the memory. ‘Luke.’

“What,” Ahsoka blinks, “you’re in the past.”

Ezra nods. “I’m reliving the memory of when Luke was comatose from...from facing Vader in the Senate.”

‘Yeah,’ holo Ezra echoes, ‘he is.’

“This is when Luke got his hearing aids, right?” Leia wonders. “A year before we met?”

Luke nods in answer, absently touching the devices curled in the shell of his ears that he has grown to treat as another appendage. He cannot tear his eyes away from the holo.

‘I’ll be back,’ holo Ezra says, gasping as he awakens.

The light bends and shapes a person. Once the man is shown clearly, Ahsoka falls off her chair and sprawls on the floor.

“Anakin?!”

Leia quakes in her chair. “That’s him?!”

“Fascinating,” Kanan comments.

Luke squeezes Ezra’s hand rather than verbalize an exclamation. Anakin looks different from the holo Luke and Leia saw on Naboo, but it was definitely the same man.

Ahsoka stares dazedly at the holo, Leia and Luke leaning forward as they listen to the ensuing conversation.

When it is over, the recorder shuts down, and the room elapses into silence.

Luke slips his hand away from Ezra, setting both on his lap. He does not look at anyone when his fervent voice rises amongst the quiet:

“He was trying to save us,” his eyes fill with tears, “he was trying to save her. Any one of us would’ve done the same.”

“Yeah,” Leia’s voice is unnaturally delicate, “yeah, you’re right, Luke.”

Ahsoka, who did not know the details of what made her old Master turn Dark, is distraught upon learning the truth. “If Ezra has this power, and Rey has visions that she can’t control,” she inhales a gasp, “that means Ezra won’t be the only one with this ability in a couple years. Rey will inherit it.”

The fire that Ezra felt on Endor, the need to protect his daughter, is fiercer than ever. It boils underneath his skin, the backs of his teeth clenching to curb the ferocity bubbling over into his speech. Despite the effort to contain his emotions, the impassioned words are accompanied by a heated tone:

“I will do anything,” Ezra says, “to ensure she does not have to deal with this. I will bear it willingly if it spares my little girl.”

That causes Luke to survey Ezra’s bearded profile. “If I were in your place, I would too.”

“If that is the case,” Kanan reminds them, “then we have a timetable. This problem must be resolved before Rey comes into her own powers.”

“I will do everything I can until then,” Ezra vows.

It is a vow that no one disputes. Silently, the Jedi Masters rise from their white circular seats and dismiss themselves to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: @toomanyfandoms99-ao3
> 
> Kudos and comments help me write!


	3. Age 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey stands and darts out of the meditation room. The hallway is empty, so she dashes around the Temple discreetly. She reaches the side of the building and scrambles up to a low-hanging opening meant to ventilate air into the conical structure.
> 
> As her leg is about to be cast over the side, a voice hums. “Is Rey Organa-Bridger making an escape?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m uploading this from an ER waiting room because my grandma has hypertension. Everything is looking okay, though.
> 
> Super excited for everyone to read this chapter! I worked really hard on perfecting this one!

A little boy is running in the markets. 

Rey sees him while in meditation: a boy around her age with dark skin is sprinting away from someone in the markets. Right now. At this very moment.

His heart thumps fast. So fast that her heart rate spikes too.

She hones in on the boy, creating a visual without alerting him of her presence.

The boy breathes in spurts while he dodges past balking crowds and food stalls. He ducks down an alleyway and flattens against a doorway.

The panic is a companion beside him. The pain, the agony, the…

The grief.

Rey opens her eyes. Ahsoka tilts her head from the center of the circular room. “Rey?”

The younger trainees around her age break meditation at the word, turning towards her in confusion.

Rey flushes in embarrassment, but meets Ahsoka’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t feel good.”

“Oh?” Ahsoka studies Rey’s downturned expression. “And how’s that?”

Rey cannot lie. She withholds the truth instead.

“I-I feel weird,” Rey gulps as if holding back nausea.

“Okay,” Ahsoka motions her hand upwards, “you are dismissed.”

Rey stands and darts out of the meditation room. The hallway is empty, so she dashes around the Temple discreetly. She reaches the side of the building and scrambles up to a low-hanging opening meant to ventilate air into the conical structure.

As her leg is about to be cast over the side, a voice hums. “Is Rey Organa-Bridger making an escape?”

Rey stiffens and turns. She is relieved when she sees who it is; her green-haired pointy-eared teenage cousin would never tattle on her.

“Jacen,” she hisses, “be quiet or else.”

“Oooh,” Jacen beams mischievously, “we have an ‘or else.’ This is serious.”

“Quiet,” Rey clips, “now leave me alone.”

As she casts the other leg around the opening, Jacen steps forward. His freckles gleam on his elvish face, and his navy robes are a shroud around his tornado of a Force presence.

“Just wondering,” Jacen holds up a finger, “why exactly are you escaping in the middle of classes?”

“None of your business,” Rey replies smoothly. “Bye now.”

As she makes to slip down into the scorched grasslands below, Jacen advances in the span of a breath and grabs her arm.

“Hey!” Rey tears her arm away roughly.

“Okay,” Jacen holds up his hands, “wow. What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” Rey sighs, “I have to go, alright? No telling.”

“Well,” Jacen says, “I’m coming with you, then.”

“Me too,” two voices say.

Rey gasps as she and Jacen turn. Shira and Poe stand a pace away from the duo.

Shira May is Rey’s best friend in the Temple. She is the sweetest person that Rey ever met and everyone loves her. Rey can trust her.

Despite Poe Dameron not having the Force, he is on Lothal often due to his parents moving around the galaxy. Rey trusts him too, since he always visits her and talks to her.

Rey tips her head up and sighs loudly. “Fine. Try and keep up.”

-

“So,” Shira chimes, “what are we looking for, Rey?”

Rey opens her eyes after concentrating for a moment. They are near the public landspeeder docks. The markets are close, which is where Rey sensed the boy.

She regards the friends and family that followed her. Shira is all smiles, unfazed by Rey’s uncharacteristic behavior. Poe is glancing around them, one hand on a concealed blaster pistol. Jacen crosses his arms impatiently, brows arched, expecting Rey to explain herself.

Rey says, “there’s a boy in trouble. Someone was chasing after him, and I believe he is Force sensitive.”

Jacen scoffs. “If there’s a Force sensitive on the streets of Lothal, don’t you think your Dads would have found him by now?”

“Maybe,” Rey points out, “he’s scared, and doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“But you sensed him from the Temple,” Jacen counters, “we all should have sensed him, then.”

Rey scowls. “If you’re going to complain about following me, you can just go.”

“Yeah,” Shira backs her up, “you’re being super rude to your cousin, Jacen.”

Jacen huffs, “you’re not making sense to me, Rey.”

“Okay,” Poe cuts in, “stop. We’re being watched.”

Rey shuts her mouth as Jacen extends a search through the Force. 

It hits Rey again. A twist in her gut, traveling to her heart, speeding it up as if revving an engine.

She must gasp and her knees must buckle, because Shira moves to hold her upright. 

“Rey,” Shira breathes as Rey struggles to stand, “what was that? Are you okay?”

Rey blinks rapidly and regains an upright position. She exhales, “he’s still here. He’s being chased again.”

“Which way?” Poe asks supportively.

Rey advances to the west side of the markets. Poe grips the blaster underneath his layers of clothing and keeps perfect pace with her. Jacen and Shira bring up the rear, heads turning in each direction to pick out the boy.

But for some reason, the boy only broadcasts to her.

Rey follows the boy’s path from her vision, gasping when she recognizes the alleyway. She breaks out into a jog, turning the corner and eyeing a cloth on the grass.

Rey reaches the cloth, a black bandanna abandoned at the side door of a diner. She crouches and studies it for a moment.

Jacen comes up behind her and gasps, Poe and Shira glancing around for signs of the boy.

Rey grabs the cloth and stuffs it in her robes. She rises and shoots a hard look at Jacen. “See?! This is where he was when I sensed him! He has to be nearby!”

“Okay,” Jacen holds up his hands, “I’ll never doubt you again, O Illustrious Visionary.”

Rey narrows her eyes. “Can’t you compliment someone without acting like a piece of poodoo?”

Jacen stuffs his hands messily in his robes. “Fine. Where to next?”

A blaster barrel cocks beside Jacen’s forehead.

Rey backs up against the door, squinting to stare up at a man clad in black armor. 

His vocoder says, “you’re all coming with us.”

Jacen gulps and freezes, looking down at Rey. 

Jacen Jarrus-Syndulla, for the first time, is afraid.

Rey’s eyes dart to the side. Poe has a blaster against his forehead too, belonging to a man covered in head wrapping and scuffed armor. Shira is backed into Poe’s front, and he holds her in a parental manner.

Rey blinks, their combined fear radiating through the Force.

Is she the only one who isn’t afraid?

She stands tall, stepping away from the door. She stares up at the black-armored man.

“Did you steal a little boy?” She accuses.

The vocoder garbles with laughter. The other man laughs through his face wraps.

“Aw,” the man says in amusement, “you’re going to the same place he is, spitfire.”

The blaster swerves from Jacen’s forehead to her own. Rey crosses her eyes at the barrel.

“Now march, missy.”

“Hey!” Jacen struggles as the man traps him against a chest plate. “Don’t you point that at her! You kriffin’ pile of bantha shit!”

Rey shuts her eyes and focuses. She pays no attention to the man’s robotic laugh as he teases Jacen, “what, you want to protect your mouthy little brat?”

She does not hear Jacen’s answer. Her hold on the Force becomes a hand. It closes around the barrel of the man’s blaster.

And the blaster rifle is crushed in midair.

The man swears and drops the rifle. It fires a shot. 

The bolt freezes before it can hit Rey’s foot.

Rey looks at the bolt indifferently. The men swear and scatter, deeming them not worth it. 

Rey waves her hand, and the bolt fizzles into nothing.

Jacen falls to his knees, staring at her with huge Loth-cat eyes. “Rey,” he exhales, “how the hell did you do that?”

“Whatever it was,” Shira smiles, “it was awesome.”

“Very awesome,” Poe agrees.

Rey frowns down at the destroyed blaster. “I just concentrated. And I don’t like blasters. They’re uncivilized when in the wrong hands.”

She clamps her mouth shut. Where did that last sentence come from? Her?

Someone else?

“Well,” Jacen huffs, “I’m seriously never doubting you again. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

Rey bats her lashes and says, “we still need to find the boy. They have him, or know who does.”

“What,” Poe furrows his brows, “you want to chase them down and force them to tell us where their secret villain hideout is?”

“No, I’ll see where this blaster has been.”

Jacen hums, crossing his legs in the patchy grass to stay close to her height. “Have you ever Force tracked before?”

“I have,” Shira harmonizes, sitting beside Rey, “if you need help, I’m here.”

Rey removes her hand from the blaster rifle. “How about you do it, Shira? Since you already have.”

Shira inclines her head, nodding and stretching out her arm. Red skin touches crumpled gray metal.

There is silence for a moment. Poe looks around the alleyway corner as the guardian, his curly raven hair flopping as his head turns from right to left. Jacen is remarkably quiet, checking the Force again for anomalies.

Shira opens her eyes and reports, “the boy is hiding in an empty shipping container. The scary men are looking for him.”

“So they don’t have him,” Jacen muses, “I suspected that.”

“We have to follow them,” Rey decides, rising from the ground.

Before she can reach Poe, Jacen cautions, “we need to think for a minute here, Rey. They have weapons. We just have Poe’s blaster. I didn’t even bring my lightsaber.”

“We have the Force,” Rey counters breezily. “All a Jedi needs for a companion is the Force.”

Jacen deadpans, “I can’t believe you just quoted my own Dad at me.”

“Don’t stress so much, Jacen. We can do this.”

She catches Poe’s attention at the alley corner. He looks down and reports, “I saw them go back into the markets, towards the landspeeders.”

“Are you telling me,” Jacen says incredulously, “that if we had stayed where we were, we would have found this kid already?”

“We went in a circle,” Poe corrects.

Jacen scoffs, “of course we went in a circle.”

-

At the public landspeeder bay entrance, Rey, Shira, Jacen, and Poe crouch behind a sign. The two armored men stalk around the docks, walking slowly to draw the boy out of hiding and assume there is no escape. 

Rey’s gaze sweeps over the landspeeders, catching sight of a pile of crates. “There!” She hisses, nudging her head to the west.

Three heads swivel and nod at the pile. As if to confirm Rey’s choice, the heart beating beside her own palpitates.

“Okay,” Poe says, “since I’m the one with the blaster, I should be the one to fire it and create a distraction. Then,” his gaze affixes to the men, “I’ll run off into markets and lose him. In the meantime, you’ll search through the crates and get the boy back to the Temple. I’ll find my own way back, since I know the streets better than the rest of you combined. Does that sound-”

His head turns. He sighs.

They already left.

“Great,” Poe mutters to himself. “Well, here I go.”

Rey holds back a chortle as she creeps towards the crates and hears a blaster bolt sizzle up into the sky. Poe shouts and gains the attention of both armored men.

Once the men give into the fruitless chase, Poe having already disappeared into the markets, Jacen mutters, “damn, Poe’s a real one.”

Standing, Rey, Jacen, and Shira comb through the valley of crates. Jacen goes left, Shira goes right, and Rey chooses the center.

As she takes her first steps, she feels it: a string being yanked on from up ahead. 

Breath hitching, Rey rushes forward until the string disappears. She eyes a crate with a partially-open lid, enough space so the boy can peek through the crack.

Rey takes a breath and says, “they’re gone. You can come out now.”

No movement.

Rey didn’t think it would be that easy, anyway.

“I’m here with my friends,” Rey projects, “I sensed your heartbeat going crazy from miles away. None of us will hurt you. We just want to help.”

The words marinate in the air for a moment.

A hand grasps the crate lid and pushes it away. The little boy crouches up in the crate, revealing dark skin and honey brown eyes affixing to her earnestly.

Rey smiles, reciting what she was told to by her Dad in this situation. “Hi, my name is Rey Organa-Bridger. I’m a Jedi youngling at the Lothal Temple. I can offer you safety, food, and shelter. What’s your name?”

The boy furrows his brows, then asks softly, “how can you hear my heartbeat?”

Rey answers, “Jedi have the power of the Force, the ability to sense all life forms, especially those that are in danger.”

“A-and,” the boy blinks, “you sense me?”

“Yes,” Rey affirms, “can you sense me?”

The boy studies her very carefully. He considers the question for a long moment. Rey almost thinks he will not reply.

But the boy says, “you glow.”

Rey nods, concealing her excitement at being correct in her assumption that he is Force-sensitive. “That means you’re one of us. Come on. Would you like to meet my friends?”

The boy stares for another couple beats, squinting to dissipate the Light inside every Jedi.

The boy climbs out of the crate and lands on the ground. They are the same height.

“Finn,” the boy says, “my name is Finn.”

Rey grins. “Hi Finn! Nice to meet you. May I ask...do you have parents?”

Finn’s eyes well up.

“I’m sorry,” Rey murmurs, “come with us, then. Can I get my two friends?”

Finn nods in assent.

Rey turns to call out their names. “Jacen! Shira!”

Jacen jogs down the center area of crates. Once he sees the boy standing near Rey, he stops in his tracks.

“Hey, kid,” Jacen offers a smile, “I’m Jacen Jarrus-Syndulla.”

“Finn,” he mutters.

“Oh,” Shira beams at the boy, “hello. Shira May.”

“Hi,” Finn chimes, his nervousness at the new faces evaporating slowly.

“Oh,” Rey looks over at Jacen, “do you know where Poe-”

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!”

They turn their heads sharply to the landspeeder docking entrance. Poe returns, running like a maniac as the two armored men chase after him.

Jacen sighs. “Found him.”

Poe jumps into a public landspeeder and turns the key. The engine fires up quickly, and he chances a glance over at them.

Poe grins and winks.

He hits the gas pedal and shoots off like a rocket. The armored men do not see the children by the crates and give chase on their own landspeeder.

“Damn,” Jacen says, “Poe scares me.”

“You made him that way,” Rey points out. 

Jacen shrugs, smiling over at Finn. “While our friend gets rid of those bad guys, let’s get in one of these speeders, okay?”

Finn nods.

————

Poe Dameron was born to fly.

His mother, Shara Bey, encouraged him from a young age to sit in the X-wing cockpit with her. She always held him in her lap and pointed to the controls, murmuring into his hair what they did. Poe would press them when the power was off, miming the functions to her delight.

As much as he was attached to his mother, however, his father Kes was a huge inspiration too. His father was the one who ruffled his moppy hair, told him jokes and taught him how to shoot like a true marksman. 

He loves both of his parents immensely. But since Poe is staying in the Temple while they are vacationing, he has leeway to do what he wants.

And what he wants is to smoke these bounty hunters on the streets of Lothal.

As Poe zooms away from the public landspeeder docks, Jacen starts up an engine to shuttle the kids to safety. Poe shoots a thumbs-up at the bounty hunters eating his dust.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, dudes!” Poe yells out a taunt.

He curbs hard once he enters the side street parallel to the markets. He hears collective gasps for getting a little too close to the stalls, even receiving a curse from a Bardottan.

He sails through the crowds, curving until he reaches a neighborhood with minimal foot traffic. 

There is a screech behind him. A shot is fired, clipping Poe’s side mirror.

“Kriff,” he mutters to himself.

He keeps one hand on the wheel as he dodges through neighborhoods. The other hand unholsters his blaster and keeps one finger on the trigger.

Another shot scuffs the landspeeder’s paint job. Poe huffs and makes several quick turns.

When he breaks out of the neighborhoods, he rockets into the scorched grasslands. The Temple is a conical tower in the distance. If he gets close enough, he would put the entire Temple on alert.

He’s been in worse situations, so he deems the risk necessary. He would take as much of the fall as possible.

A third blaster bolt wings the side engine of the landspeeder. The machine stutters, but flies forward with no damage.

Poe sends a prayer to the pilot gods.

He swerves the landspeeder in a series of serpentine twists. The bounty hunters shout and follow his movements.

With a refined boldness, Poe swerves into a perfect one-eighty degree angle and slams the brakes to a halt.

He stands up in his seat and levels his arm, the blaster pistol loaded. He closes one eye and focuses as the enemy landspeeder screeches to a stop in front of his side door.

When they are a yard apart, Poe aims for the main engine between the men and fires.

The engine fizzles with a spark, and the armored men yell and curse. They scramble out of the landspeeder as the spark spreads, causing the seats to catch fire.

Once they lie face-down in the grass, Poe sits back down and tosses his blaster in the back seat. He hits the gas pedal and swerves again, righting his course towards the Temple.

Poe relishes in the free moment that he has before he reaches his destination. The smell of age-old smoked grass is familiar to his nostrils, the clear air freshening his mind.

He hopes that everyone else will be back soon.

Poe slows the engine as he reaches the front of the Temple. The sight before him makes his heart race.

The contents of the Jedi Temple is outside. All of them.

“Blast,” Poe hisses to himself.

He parks, cuts the engine, and beams at the Council of Jedi that everyone called The Five.

“Heyyyy,” Poe waves, “how’s it going, guys?” He laughs nervously. “Me? I’m great, thanks!”

The Five’s expressions are all very interesting. Even though Kanan is blind, his crossed arms and deep frown express his disappointment; Kanan is used to such behavior in his son, but not in Poe. Ahsoka arches a marked brow, hands clasped behind her to hide clenched fists. Leia is no better, her ferocity playing across her face as it does when someone breaks the rules.

As for Luke and Ezra, the men who helped raise Poe, they do their best to seem nonplussed. Luke, who sang Poe lullabies when he was a baby, simply wears a blank expression. And Ezra, who was essentially his big brother, is bemused and curious.

“Well,” Poe places his hands on his hips, squinting at the trail of smoke that thins with the landspeeder engine at rest, “I don’t know about you all, but,” he smiles, uncaring of the Jedi trainees who gape at his boldness, “I’m going to wash up after I,” false pride causes his voice to raise an octave, “totally smoked those kidnapping bucket brains!” He shoots finger guns, garnering Ezra’s brow of skepticism. 

“Start talking, Poe,” Ahsoka projects as the oldest of the Five.

Poe schools his expression, breathing haughtily so he doesn’t stress himself out. “Well,” he glances at the horizon, wincing when he realizes they wouldn’t be arriving to save him from a lone interrogation, “you see,” Poe directs his words to Luke and Ezra, “Rey sensed somebody in trouble, and honestly,” he shrugs, “I’m not one to let Rey go off on her own like that, and I’m certainly not one to stifle her determination.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, exhaling to prevent an embarrassed flush from conquering his copper skin.

“Poe,” Kanan asks, “where’s my son? And where’s Shira?”

“Oh,” Poe answers Kanan, “they came along too. And, you know, we have a real success story here. I mean, we outsmarted two bounty hunters! And! And!” He grins. “Rey found a Force sensitive! So yay for her, guys!” He claps. “Yes! She did that, okay? She. Did. That.”

“This Force sensitive,” Leia parses, her strict mask faltering, “are there parents involved?”

Poe shakes his head with a grimace. “I’m no Force user, but whatever happened to that boy,” he sighs, “it must have been awful. And, look,” he paces a little, “I don’t know everything, because I was the one baiting those bad guys so they wouldn’t snatch the boy, but he was so scared. Okay?” He stops in his tracks and lowers his head, a lump forming at the image.

Even though Poe only glimpsed the small boy, analyzing the memory is enough to hit him with a dose of melancholy. The boy wore dirty tattered clothes, indicating that the chase for him may have lasted days. Entire days where this boy was left to fend for himself, presumably after those bounty hunters executed his parents. For what reason, it didn’t matter to Poe. It simply hurt to see that boy, however far away from him, so malnourished, dripping with grief and a loss Poe will never understand.

Poe inhales sharply and looks back up. “Rey did a good thing. Jacen did a good thing. Shira did a good thing. And I,” he points to himself, “did a good thing. Okay? So stop staring at me like I’m a child.”

He turns his cheek curtly, melting in relief on the inside when a landspeeder engine is heard thrumming.

With ceremony, the landspeeder engine sputters as it nears Poe’s. Jacen tears out the keys, wringing out his hands from sweating on the wheel. 

Undeterred by the crowd, Shira unlatches her passenger door, landing softly on the ground. She steps over to the back. She opens the boy’s side door, Rey murmuring something to him.

Whatever she says coaxes the boy to slip out of the landspeeder. Rey stands beside him as he hangs his head.

Poe studies the boy more closely. He is about Rey’s age, with a shaved head and dark eyes to match his skin. His nose is wide and his jaw is angular, expressing a strength rarely found in such young children.

The boy catches his eye, and Poe holds up a hand in greeting. He tilts his head warily, but is not unkind as he locks gazes for a beat.

Leia disperses the students from the rest of afternoon classes with a sharp instruction. The trainees file back into the Temple, save for the Five and the beings of interest.

Poe watches from the sidelines as Kanan has a tentative mental conversation with Jacen. Based on Jacen’s surprise, he would not be reprimanded as usual. Ahsoka gathers up Shira in a side hug, which causes the Twi’lek to sigh in relief; her record of exemplary behavior is upheld. Luke and Ezra kneel beside Rey and the boy, Luke speaking to their daughter sternly while Ezra beams with pride at her accomplishment. It causes Luke to shoot Ezra a look that replaced hitting him upside the head, a look that has Ezra laughing awkwardly. Nevertheless, both men speak to the boy and have him replying with his name, Finn.

Before Poe eavesdrops any further, Leia walks over to speak to him.

“If we tell your parents about this,” Leia says, “I’ll be in more trouble than you. Keep today between us, alright?”

Poe nods in resounding agreement.


	4. Age 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey should be excited to be back in her original home. She should be running around Varykino exclaiming at the similarities and differences she observed since she lived there. She should be inspecting her bedroom and searching for lost treasures. She should be chasing butterflies in the flower fields, swimming in the lake, meditating alongside a pack of Shaak.
> 
> But all she feels is emptiness, a coldness, a dull blade pressing against her goosebumps, telling her that her great-grandparents are gone and nothing would be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m genuinely shocked I finished this chapter today. I was babysitting all day and, in the empty moments, this happened? Wild.
> 
> Jobal and Ruwee’s backstories are completely improvised because I didn’t feel like deep-diving into Star Wars wiki.
> 
> I apologize in advance for writing a sad chapter. I needed to get some feelings out.

Ezra swings his lightsaber staff to block training bot shots, strands of hair covering his face as it falls from his half-undone bun. He exhales and uses three fingers to flip the hilt, blocking a series of bolts aiming for his midriff.

Practicing lazily helped get his mind off of his problems, especially when those problems involved reliving memories.

Like most of the memories, it was an unhappy one that woke Ezra in the middle of the Tantive VII’s night cycle. He hoped the ambassador starship bound for Naboo would ward off the Force nonsense that Ezra dealt with at the Temple on a daily basis, but he is not so fortunate.

Ezra swerves his lightsaber to block shots centered at his legs. He leaps when he narrowly misses a fast bolt whizz across the shadowy common room.

When he regains concentration, ready for the next round, the training bot shuts down and drops to the floor with a thud.

Ezra breathes shallowly as Luke leans down and picks the bot off the floor. He sets it on the booth table and whirls around, crossing his arms with a sharpness to his eyes.

“I don’t like when you do this, Ezra,” he says.

Ezra collapses his yellow and blue lightsaber staff with a zoom. He blows air out of his mouth to cast unbound strands away from his face. “You try reliving our past.”

Luke winces, inching forward as if Ezra is a hostile Loth-wolf. He reaches for the hilt in Ezra’s hands, fingertips ghosting metal. At his touch, Ezra slackens his knuckle-white grip. He allows Luke to possess and tuck the lightsaber hilt in the cinched waistline of his pajama pants. 

Ezra’s heart thuds in anticipation as Luke’s hands move upwards. At Ezra’s blink, Luke hesitates before placing his palms flat on Ezra’s chest. When the movement is not disputed, Luke’s hands slacken as he half-steps forward.

Luke smooths out the sweaty creases on Ezra’s blue shirt and says, “show me.”

Ezra shakes his head. “It never works.”

Luke tilts his head up, batting his long blonde lashes. His eyes are electrified and hard. “Show me,” he demands, rising to tiptoes to messily bunk their foreheads together, “like this.”

Ezra grits his teeth, tears rising at the memory that lingers more than the rest. “I-I don’t want to-”

“Hurt me?” Luke’s eyes are blazing, even when his face is cast in Ezra’s shadow. “Stop making excuses,” he breathes against Ezra’s mouth, “and show me.”

Trapped, Ezra aligns their minds together. He shuts his eyes and searches the depths of his dreams. He finds it in the deep dark, the place where he threw it after waking.

Tentatively, Ezra circles his arms around Luke’s hips and locks them together. Their auras brush like a hand petting a Loth-wolf. Luke’s hand pushes in on the fur and Ezra curls so close that they embrace.

Ezra brings the memory forth, a scene painting itself in their shared link. Luke’s old apartment as a Senator on Coruscant solidifies. The panoramic window takes up an entire wall, the maroon-pearl decor scattered throughout the main room.

Humanoids form as if a drop of oil infects a cup of clear water. The first drop takes the shape of eighteen-year-old Luke wearing a silver high-collared shirt and black slacks. His pearl dove cape, maroon with gold trimming, curls around his form, spilling to the floor as he leans back on the couch. The second drop forms on a lounge chair near the couch, where a younger Ezra in his Alderaanian guard uniform narrows his eyes, trailing after someone.

The third drip, vinegar rather than oil, forms a black-suited heavy-breathing man. His cape flutters behind his movements as he struggles to breathe through his chest plates. 

‘My men better not find evidence of Rebel activity,’ Darth Vader spits at a casual and demure Luke.

Ezra stiffens in his seat, but Vader only has eyes for Luke; the movement goes unnoticed.

Two stormtroopers exit Luke’s bedroom, the superior officer saying mechanically, ‘there is nothing out of order, Lord Vader.’

The violence in Vader’s head turn could snap troopers’ necks. ‘Of course there isn’t,’ Vader bites, ‘look harder. I’ll have this traitor arrested.’

Ezra clenches his fists from his position as Vader leans over Luke’s relaxed demeanor on the couch. The stormtroopers stomp back into the bedroom.

Luke cocks his head to the side, tipping his head up towards Vader’s reflective mask. ‘If you wish to know about me, all you must do is ask nicely.’

Vader bristles, his looming presence lurching as if buffeted by a wind gust. ‘I know all that I need to know,’ he remarks roughly, ‘child.’

Luke shades his hurt expression with his lashes. ‘Okay,’ he mumbles, lowering his head towards his lap, fiddling with his hands.

Vader stares for a moment. Ezra rises from his lounge chair, breathing slow to maintain his composure. His hands clasp behind his back, emulating Kanan’s training.

‘Senator,’ Ezra says tightly, garnering Vader’s swiveling attention for the first time in his life, ‘it is best to be patient during this inspection.’

Luke exhales deeply, closing his eyes and opening them again. His emotional control is reestablished; he removes himself from the situation as much as possible.

The stormtroopers return and announce, ‘after a thorough search of Senator Organa’s records, we found no evidence of Rebel collusion.’

Vader growls, the stormtroopers ducking their helmet heads and skittering out of the apartment before he could toss them against a wall.

Vader glares at Ezra and Luke. ‘This isn’t over, Prince Organa,’ he points at Luke, ‘this is only the beginning.’

His cape swishes as he exits the apartment swiftly. Once the door slides shut and locks itself, the younger Luke and Ezra sigh in relief.

The memory ends, their intertwined minds returning to the Tantive VII. Luke nudges his forehead away from Ezra. His eyes are steely blue when he lowers his tiptoes and studies Ezra’s expression.

All Luke does is hum.

Ezra blinks. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Luke shrugs. “The past is the past,” he says, “no matter the emotions it resurfaces.”

Luke turns and untucks Ezra’s lightsaber out of the back of his shirt. He sets the hilt in the booth table beside the training bot.

“I can’t do that,” Ezra murmurs, “I can’t disassociate myself like that.” There is a bitterness to his next statement. “I wish I could.”

Luke spins around and advances again, not speaking as he steps on Ezra’s feet to level their height. Ezra furrows his brows as Luke balances on him, wrapping his arms around Ezra’s neck. Luke unties Ezra’s bun, curtains of blue-hued raven hair trailing over Luke’s arms.

“Hey,” Luke nudges their noses together, his natural heat warming Ezra’s space-cold skin, “you’re doing an amazing job. I don’t tell you this enough, but,” their lips rest a centimeter apart, “you’re the most capable, resilient, and talented Jedi in the galaxy. I know you can do this. I know you’ll figure this out. I’ve always known.”

Ezra’s throat is blocked by a lump of emotion. He blinks before his eyes well up.

Luke moves to kiss Ezra’s scar and whisper, “I love you, alright?”

The remark is the perfect opportunity for Ezra to quip, “oh, I hadn’t noticed by the way you were being more tactile than you have in a while.”

Luke’s expression flashes and falls. Frowning, he steps off of Ezra’s feet, arms dropping to his sides.

Ezra reels him in before he can retreat. “It’s fine, alright?” He snorts in amusement. “We have two children to love now! They’re more important!”

Luke nods slowly, but he does not move closer.

Ezra rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss Luke’s forehead. “Don’t be sad! There will be plenty of sobbing at the funeral tomorrow.”

Luke hums, choosing to curl into Ezra’s loose embrace. He buries his cheek in Ezra’s chest, swaying them both as if in a slow dance.

“Jobal and Ruwee were good people,” Luke mumbles into Ezra’s sleep shirt. “People like them deserve to live forever.”

“You’re right,” Ezra says, “but at least it was peaceful.”

“Yeah,” Luke sniffles, “I want that.”

Ezra smiles into his husband’s lush golden hair. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

————

Rey has been a spectator for Jacen’s trials, Shira’s evaluation, and little Ben’s first levitation test. She has been to wedding vow renewals and birthday celebrations.

But she has never been to a Nubian funeral.

Rey should be excited to be back in her original home. She should be running around Varykino exclaiming at the similarities and differences she observed since she lived there. She should be inspecting her bedroom and searching for lost treasures. She should be chasing butterflies in the flower fields, swimming in the lake, meditating alongside a pack of Shaak.

But all she feels is emptiness, a coldness, a dull blade pressing against her goosebumps, telling her that her great-grandparents are gone and nothing would be the same.

She wishes the galaxy can revolve without any changes being made to her life, but even thinking about the concept made her feel foolish.

Nubian funeral ceremonies, especially for the parents of a former Queen, are an event for the entire planet to partake in together. Rey believes that the whole population of Theed is present for the ceremonial service.

Clad in a black pouf dress, Rey stands between Papa and Finn. Dad is plucked out of the crowd as the ambassador, dressed in a black overcoat fastened with Nubian red buttons. He stands atop the palace steps beside Pooja, Ryoo, Sola, and Lola. Pooja struggles not to burst into tears while Ryoo is as stoic as ever. Sola and Lola wear black and red floral ensembles, both comforting the other with short glances. They all have two dots of paint on their cheeks to indicate their Naberrie bloodline.

The summer drizzle, evaporating before hitting the cobblestone, tickles Rey’s thick braid; the mixed weather is a reflection of her.

The hover caskets float near them, the closed boxes adorned with so many flowers that Rey cannot pick out the varnished wood. Finn sucks in a breath and says nothing.

Rey nudges Finn’s shoulder, offering a small smile. Finn discreetly smiles back.

This situation is worse for Finn than it is for her. He didn’t know anyone here. He relies on Rey and her Dads on a planet of strangers. Rey takes care to remember this, and makes a note to introduce Finn to everyone before they left.

These past months, Finn has become a brother to her. When Rey brought him to Lothal after his rescue, she was afraid they would send Finn away. After being reprimanded for nearly getting shot, her Dads agreed that she followed the right course of action. Rather than ground Rey for the rest of her life, her Dads adopted Finn and gained his confidence. As a result, Finn was no longer reserved; he was sunshine in a bottle, a soothing Force balm. Rey could not be happier that she brought him to the Temple.

The hover caskets reach the bottom of the palace steps, where they will remain until after the service.

Of all the beings atop the steps that Rey would have expected to speak, she had not predicted that it would be her Dad.

He breaks from the line of bereaved women. His blonde hair takes on a silver note due to the cloudy day, his skin less tan than Lothal custom. The red buttons shine on his knee-length overcoat as side chatter ceases.

Rey will never understand how her Dad commands so much attention and respect wherever he travels.

Dad has no need for a podium. He projects into a holo recorder resting in his palm.

“Jobal and Ruwee Naberrie,” he says, “lived through four generations in the galaxy’s history. They grew up during the bloodiest Nubian civil war and, against all odds, were two of three Royal Houses that survived by taking a neutral stance. After the dust settled, these Houses convened, which is where they met and fell in love. In a new age of peace, they married and had two daughters: Sola and Padmé Naberrie. They watched proudly as their eldest daughter created several charitable foundations for Naboo, while their youngest daughter, my mother, became one of Naboo’s most beloved Queens and Senators.”

Activity in the crowds rose up in a murmur. Rey could understand why; her parents rarely talk about the past, as it was not the Jedi way to linger too long on unchangeable events.

Finn stares for a beat at Rey’s profile, as if assessing the royal blood coursing through her veins. He quickly ducks his head and turns back to the speech.

“Jobal and Ruwee watched Naboo descend into another civil war,” Luke continued measuredly, “and guided their daughters forward in ensuring that the aftermath would be better than the last time. They succeeded in turning Theed into an even more beautiful city with repairs and sending credits to the poorest of their citizens. During the Clone Wars, their discreet work brought prosperity to this planet and offered aid to those star systems who were not so fortunate. When this war segued into another, while mourning over the loss of their youngest daughter, Jobal and Ruwee never stopped fighting for the Nubian people, even throughout the dark times. And finally, as they entered this new age of peace, they could pass on to Shiraya knowing that their family, four generations later, is finally safe.” 

Dad musters a smile. Everyone looks back at him, Rey spellbound by his ability to evoke such bittersweet happiness.

“For a legacy,” Dad concludes, “this story is full of strife and war, but it is also full of peace and generations of love and service to the galaxy. Now,” he turns back to Sola, who steps forward with glistening eyes, “your new House Naberrie matriarch would like to guide us in a prayer.”

Dad backpedals and allows Sola to begin her prayers. The entire crowd follows along with bowed heads and low repeated whispers. 

Papa places a hand on Rey and Finn’s opposite shoulders. He is surprisingly quiet, so she peers up to see that his eyes are glistening too.

It was a beautiful speech, but Rey didn’t feel like being sad today. It would be her job, as well as Finn’s, to bring some Light into the occasion.

After the prayer to Shiraya, the hover caskets float away from the palace steps. The immediate family descends the stairs and makes their way to the cars. 

Papa smooths out her braid, causing Rey to look up. Papa’s eyes are misty as he murmurs, “come on, both of you.”

Papa guides Rey and Finn to Dad’s hover car.

-

Rey perches in Varykino’s wall nook with Finn, the two observing everyone mingling in the living space. The funeral after-service was almost over, with the last guests exiting the property.

Finn nudges her arm. Someone locks eyes and approaches her.

Rey had seen holos of her grandmother Padmé, but the woman’s decoy is the closest she gets to the former Queen’s love.

Sabé studies Rey in the nook, a glint in her eyes. “Long time no see, honey. You’re looking very grown up.”

Rey tips her head up. Sabe wears black like everyone else, but her red gloves help her stand out as a surrogate family member.

She glances at Finn; he tenses up around strangers. “Finn, this is Sabé, my grandma’s friend.”

“H-Hi,” Finn says.

“Sabé, this is my brother, Finn,” Rey explains.

“Oh,” Sabé smiles, “how nice. Just like your parents!”

“Hm?” Rey cocks her head to the side in confusion.

“They never told you?” Sabé snorts in amusement. “Well, your parents were adopted and grew up together.”

Her Dads never tell her anything interesting!

“You two will be wonderful friends,” Sabé predicts, “just like they were.”

“But they,” Rey tastes something awful in her mouth, pulling a face, “but they do adult kissy things!”

“Gross,” Finn adds in perfect solidarity, “we won’t be like that.”

“No,” Rey shakes her head in vehement agreement.

Sabé chuckles, smoothing out thin hairs sticking up on Rey’s forehead. “Of course you won’t. I simply said you would be friends.”

“That’s not what you were implying,” Rey sighs.

“Oh, you know about implications now? Forget I said it, then.” Sabé retracts her hand, Rey warming at the softness of her touch. “Thanks for the laugh.”

Sabé is called over by Sola. Papa approaches to take her place.

“Alright,” Papa looks down at the siblings sitting on the nook, “ready to help clean up?”

“I don’t know,” Rey says warily, “why didn’t you tell me you and Dad grew up together? That’s gross, Papa.”

Papa’s thick brows furrow. “How is it gross? I don’t see the correlation.”

“Because you kiss now,” Rey wrinkles her nose and twists her lips in a corkscrew to express her disgust.

Papa snorts out a laugh. “Why does that matter?”

“Cause it’s weird,” Finn mumbles.

Papa’s eyes glint in amusement. “I thought I taught you both to refrain from judging others.”

Rey scowls. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh?” Papa half-smiles. “Life isn’t fair, Rey.” He holds out a hand. “Come on, now. Both of you. We’re helping to clean the house.”

Rey harrumphs; she hates chores.

Papa rolls his eyes. “Stop acting like your Dad. Let’s go.”

Rey slips out of the wall nook. Finn climbs out and follows as well.

-

“And this,” Rey beams as she leads Finn to the bookshelves, “contains a copy of my favorite story of all time.”

When her finger thumbs the blue cover and yanks it out, she holds it in her arms. Finn follows Rey as she sinks onto the fur rug and places the book in her lap.

“This is the perfect time to practice your reading!” Rey gasps in proclamation. She hands the book to Finn and says, “read the title to start.”

“The...Duke and the...Way-ter,” Finn sounds out, examining the drawing of one man in royal clothing while the other dresses in a tuxedo and carries a tray.

“Wade-er,” Rey says, “waiter is like wade-er.”

“Wade-er,” Finn corrects.

“Great! I can tell you a little bit about it before you decide to read.”

“Sure,” Finn says, “it must be good if you’re excited about it.”

“Well,” Rey recounts, “it’s a love story-”

“No.”

“Let me finish.”

“Okay,” Finn amends.

“It’s a love story about a beloved Duke of his kingdom who gives up his crown to marry the man he loves, a waiter who lives with the commoners.”

Finn hums in consideration. “So it’s a story about Luke and Ezra.”

“Huh?” Rey leans back, affronted. “No, not at all. Where did you get that?”

“My mind,” Finn points to his temple, “my mind saw them.”

“What?!”

“When you said ‘Duke,’ I saw Luke,” Finn says.

Rey rocks forward. “That doesn’t...maybe it’s a name thing?”

“And when you said ‘waiter,’” Finn points out, “I saw a younger Ezra. He was wearing a red outfit with a bird on it.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I saw it! Look!” Finn eagerly presses two fingers to Rey’s forehead.

Their minds meet in a finicky connection, but Rey sees it: Dad descending palace steps wearing maroon-white finery, a ruby-silver crown perched on his golden head, a cape trailing around his body and skimming down the marble staircase; and then, Papa standing beside a king wearing a maroon uniform with a bird on the breast pocket.

The connection breaks like two loose wires being torn from each other abruptly. Finn leans back and frowns. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “I’m not very good at that.”

Rey shakes her head. The images stay in the back of her mind, and she doesn’t want to believe them.

“That’s…” She exhales through her nose. “I don’t know. I don’t...I don’t know what that is, Finn.” She frowns. “I...I guess there’s a lot that I don’t know.”

“Well,” Finn shrugs, “to be fair, it’s not like we care about the past, let alone what happened to our parents.”

Rey narrows her eyes. “That’s...you sounded different for a minute there.”

“It’s just an observation.”

“That’s quite the observation, Finn.”

A voice trails in from the hallway outside the Varykino library. “-didn’t know that she was-”

“I’ll handle it,” Dad huffs, “it’s alright.”

Rey rises from the rug, Finn following her to the ajar double doors. Pooja spoke with Dad in the torchlit corner.

Pooja insists, “you don’t have to-”

“She flew all the way here,” Dad sighs, his silver robes glinting in the firelight, “I might as well hear her out.”

Pooja frowns amongst the shadows of dusk, her deep purple dress blending in as well as her braided hair. “I think she’s trying to rope you back in. She’s getting old.”

“There’s no doubt about it, Pooja. However, I told her not to contact me unless the circumstances were dire.”

“What circumstances could possibly be dire in an age of peace?” She scoffs. “She’s going to offer you-”

“I’d never take it,” Dad vows. “I like my low-stakes job just fine.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Pooja counters, “I’m worried that whatever she says is going to ruin the illusion.”

Dad stiffens. “Illusion?”

Pooja backpedals, narrowing her eyes at the reaction. “I meant nothing by it. What...why are you so pale?”

Dad clears his throat. “Like you said. Mon must have a monumental reason to contact us here, in this very moment, when we are all gathered together for the first time in years. Whatever she says will be of the utmost importance.”

Pooja huffs, “fine, don’t tell me.”

“It’s nothing yet,” Dad rushes out, “I won’t say anything until Mon confirms it herself.”

“Fine,” Pooja looks like Aunt Leia as she spins haughtily, “Ryoo and Ezra should be intercepting her shuttle now.”

As they leave the hallway, going back the way they came, Rey smiles mischievously at Finn. It is reflected back on Finn’s face.

Wordlessly, they advance. They watch as Pooja, Ryoo, Dad, and Papa wait by a docked shuttle. After a moment, an old woman descends the ramp. Rey cannot make out the greetings exchanged, but the group of five soon enter Varykino. Rey and Finn hide in the shadows as the group gathers inside the parlor room. Sola and Lola hang in the peripherals, nodding their own greetings to the woman. Meanwhile, Rey and Finn flatten near the double door to eavesdrop; their ability to hide in the Force is bolstered by the other.

“Well,” the woman says, “I suppose I’ll get right down to business, yes?”

“Couldn’t this have waited, Mon?” Ryoo dares to ask.

The woman, Mon, does not reply. “In these past months, my private channels have intercepted encoded chatter. At first it sounds like nonsense words in various languages, but my data splicers discovered plans to attack the Republic at its core through a series of terrorist acts.”

The room is so quiet that Rey refrains from breathing too loudly.

“All the targets that have been identified,” Mon continues, “are Republic outposts that I have stationed throughout the galaxy. All of these outposts have classified data that could destroy the entire chain of information that I have so meticulously created. Some of these outposts,” her voice sends out a chill, “haven’t even been built yet. Only I know their locations. So how,” she inquires fearfully, “can these terrorists know my mind before I do?”

The silence is palpable.

Sola offers, “these terrorists have Force sensitives on their side. They can probe minds, right?”

Dad and Papa remain suspiciously silent.

“That can’t be right,” Mon says gravely, “that’s why I came here. I needed to hear it from my Generals. So Luke, Ezra,” she implores, “what’s wrong with the Force?”

Rey is reeling, and she shares a dizzy look with Finn. 

Her parents are Generals? And they know something is wrong? Would they have ever told her? 

Would they have ever told anyone?!

“The Force,” Papa reveals, “has been unclear in its intention and motivation for a while now. I suppose for the sake of honesty, I will admit that the Force has been deliberately showing our family memories from the past, especially me. I do not know why.”

Dad continues, “based on what I have observed in meditation, the fabric of time itself has been disrupted. In fact, Force ghosts have confirmed as much. But as to who is doing this, we don’t know, but it must be someone very powerful. Very powerful.”

There is another moment of silence. Rey has stumbled into a dream. She was sleeping. Maybe in the morning, this would all go away. 

“If they’re targeting you,” Papa says, “they must really hate what you’re doing. And that can only mean one thing.”

“It’s a Darksider,” Dad concludes, “a strong one.”

“I need to make a strong cup of caf,” Lola mutters, “if this is for real right now.”

“It’s very real,” Dad says, “so you should make a caf for all of us.”

Rey and Finn stare at each other. Something in both of them crumbles, but neither move.

All night, they listen.


	5. Age 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After lessons, Rey and Finn slip inside the Council room. The five seats for the Jedi Masters at the Temple remain empty.
> 
> It is almost time for the experiment. No matter what the adults said, both Rey and Finn are staying in the chamber until it is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting tomorrow, I’m going to be pretty busy. Babysitting, interning, and taking trial-basis graduate classes is going to suck up a lot of my time. Since I have most of this fic in my rough drafts, however, I’ll definitely post on weekends. Surprise chapters will be based on how much work I’m assigned each week. 
> 
> I’ll check Tumblr daily, so if you want to talk about this fic or Skybridger with me, my handle is @toomanyfandoms99-ao3.

When Ezra awakens without being transported to a past memory, he stretches leisurely underneath the duvet. He didn’t think Luke tiring him out would work, but it was a good thing it did. He needed as much rest as possible for today.

Just thinking about today, as he rolls on his side and opens his eyes, makes him regret it. Jedi are not meant to fear what lay ahead, but the uncertain variables far outweigh any modicum of comfort about the situation.

Ezra studies Luke, mirroring his position on the bed. Luke’s skin is especially tan with the sunrise streaming through the thin window curtain, freckles dotting his delicate nose and below his striking blonde lashes. Luke’s lips are an off-pink color, flatteringly swollen and matching the blush to his cheeks that never went away when they were alone together. Luke’s golden hair, thin and wavy around his collarbone, tickles the divot in his throat.

They so rarely receive time for themselves, without two young children to raise, that Ezra savors the moment. He takes special consideration into examining the slender body that Luke is impartial towards, the strength to his shoulders and the curve of his bare thighs beneath the duvet. 

When was the last instance where they were so passionate that Ezra ached?

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Ezra sucks in a breath. Luke’s lips upturn into a side smile, eyes blissfully closed.

“Oh,” Ezra’s cheeks burn beneath his beard, “did I say that aloud?”

“Mhm,” Luke sounds out in amusement.

Ezra sighs, turning his face into the pillow. “Damn. I was gonna be so cool about it too.”

Luke’s eyes flutter open; the vast swaths of blue in them has Ezra’s breath hitching, even after all this time.

“I love that you’re a dork,” Luke mumbles.

“Did you forget that you’re one too?” Ezra asks playfully.

“Course not,” Luke yawns, “where are the kids?”

Ezra shuts his eyes and locates that both are awake. He creates a visual for their daughter first. She is walking towards the kitchens, a herd of domesticated Loth-cats slinking behind her; Rey enjoys cooking meals whenever possible. 

As for their adopted son, he is inside a meditation room, practicing his telekinesis even on his off-time. It upset Finn that he doesn’t learn as quickly as other children his age, but he is unfaltering and persistent in his training.

The check-up complete, Ezra pushes on Luke’s shoulder. Luke makes a noise of protest, but pliantly rolls onto his back.

With a smirk, Ezra straddles his thighs as he lays on top of him. Ezra’s hair provides a curtain over their cheeks, Luke awakening fully at the friction.

“Our babies are fine,” Ezra soothes, nudging their noses together.

“They aren’t babies anymore,” Luke says sadly. His lips brush Ezra’s, seeking comfort.

Ever since Luke turned down another term as Naboo’s ambassador, choosing ultimately to remain on Lothal and focus on teaching young students Force-wielding basics, Ezra has noted his husband’s mood fluctuations. Ezra knows exactly how he feels: Luke had to make this choice not only for the sake of their family, but for the preservation of the Force and the New Republic. Ezra feared Luke would act this way; it is in Luke’s nature, weaved into his bloodstream and unattainable morals, to service the less fortunate. 

But the galaxy they live in will never be fair. Ezra did what he could, however, to cheer up Luke in his consistent self-doubt.

Ezra kisses the corner of Luke’s mouth. His beard bristles against Luke’s skin in just the way he likes it. Ezra whispers into his jaw, “I know where this thought process is going, and I don’t approve.”

Luke tenses. “Sorry. You know how I get.”

“I do, but it’s been a long time since you’ve been worried for me. Don’t be.”

“I know that you can do it. I know it, but I can’t help myself.” Luke’s arm bends, his hand brushing Ezra’s beard, pushing thick hair behind his ears. “Please be safe. Take no chances. Project yourself forwards and come right back.”

“I understand the plan, darling,” Ezra breathes, tilting his head again, placing a feather-light touch to his husband’s lips, “now love me.”

Luke bats his lashes and smooths his fingers down Ezra’s beard. He preens in delight as his pupils dilate. “Again?”

Ezra bumps their foreheads together. Their Force bond electrifies like two wires intertwining. Ezra can feel Luke’s emotions, laid bare beside his own: apprehension and anxiety for what was to happen, but above all, adoration and awe for Ezra himself in this very moment.

The answer falls from Ezra’s lips and into Luke’s own. Their minds become one.

“Yes,” Ezra exhales, “again.”

Desperately, their arms wrap around each other as they kiss.

————

After lessons, Rey and Finn slip inside the Council room. The five seats for the Jedi Masters at the Temple remain empty.

It is almost time for the experiment. No matter what the adults said, both Rey and Finn are staying in the chamber until it is over.

After eavesdropping on their conversation with Mon Mothma, the leader of the Old Rebellion, Dad and Papa told Rey and Finn the basics of the situation. Rey was so adamant and unforgiving in her inquiries that Dad relented.

Ushering Rey and Finn into chairs in the Varykino dining room, Dad discussed the issue in brief.

‘Your Papa has been given a very special gift,’ Dad explained, to Papa’s discomfort, ‘and your Papa must use his gift for a very important task. It is a task from the Force itself, and it has the potential to…’

He falls silent. He stares at the varnished tabletop.

He restarts the latter sentence. ‘The Force is, for lack of a better word, sick. The Force cannot tell the time. Do you...Rey, do you remember when you saw your Papa’s past?’

Rey nods; it’s not something she can forget.

‘That’s not supposed to happen,’ Dad says, ‘and your Papa has the power to fix it. The only problem is...it’s taking a while. It’s very delicate work. What Mon was talking about last night...it complicates everything. Mon is talking about a Darksider causing these problems. It is everyone’s job to figure this out and give your Papa as much support as possible. Can you do that? Can both of you support Papa?’

Rey studies her Papa’s uneasy expression as she and Finn bob heads in agreement. 

As Rey and Finn sprawl in the Council room, Finn whispers, “do we know if this will work?”

Rey hangs her head. Tears threaten to rise, but she breathes deeply through her nose to dispel it. “All we can do is hope.”

“Rey,” Finn says, “we will hope. We will pray. And we will believe.”

Rey picks her head up; her brother, her best friend, is beyond profound. Her worries melt away at his conviction.

Kanan arrives, marble eyes fixating on their floor position as he crosses the room. “Hm. What are you both doing here?”

“Dad!”

Rey and Finn turn. Jacen jogs into the Council room, green hair spiking over his pointed ears. Jacen halts as Kanan lowers himself into his round white seat.

“You’re not supposed to wander around alone all morning!” Jacen sighs. “Mom’s been worried.”

Kanan is unbothered. “I had much to think about in lieu of this meeting.”

Jacen’s head whips as he registers Rey and Finn on the floor. “What are you both doing here? This is the hour where they all do top secret bantha shit. Come with me.”

“Jacen,” Kanan sounds out critically, “I’m not in the mood for your antics. Tell your Mom I’m alright and go.”

Jacen frowns at Rey and Finn. “Why do they get to stay when I don’t get to know what’s going on?”

“Because their parents deemed them grown enough to understand,” Kanan replies.

Jacen grits his teeth. His resentment boils over. Before it spills, Jacen pours every last drop into the Force.

He straightens his posture, completely calm. His eyes grow dark and distant.

“Noted,” Jacen says coldly, spinning on his heel and stalking out of the Council room.

Finn shifts uncomfortably, and Rey is aghast at Kanan’s indifference.

“Did you treat my Papa so cruelly?” Rey poses to the blind man.

Kanan leans back in the cushioned chair. “I have tried to teach him patience and discipline, but unlike your father, Jacen never learns. I must be cruel because it is the only way he absorbs my instruction.”

Rey doesn’t believe him. “Have you tried, perhaps, excess kindness and understanding?”

Kanan tips his head to the side. His unseeing eyes are trained on Rey’s vicinity for a moment.

“Hm,” Kanan muses, “the mind of a child continues to astound.”

Briskly, Leia enters in her usual windstorm of a mood. She halts in her bound at the sight of Rey and Finn. She shrugs tiredly and plops beside Kanan.

“Ben?” Kanan prompts her.

Leia makes a ‘pft’ sound in the affirmative.

“Want advice on how to deal with a bad child?”

Leia swivels to face him expectantly.

“You can’t.”

“Great,” Leia musters a side smile, “thanks.”

Ahsoka examines Rey and Finn as she walks. Her marked brow arches, montrals brushing over her shoulders. “What’s this?”

“They’re allowed in, I guess,” Leia answers.

“Hm,” Ahsoka sits and asks the children, “are you both ready?”

Rey nods. Finn stares at the floor.

Ahsoka smiles kindly at Finn. “Neither am I.”

Dad and Papa enter the Council room holding hands. Dad wears maroon robes, a rare sight as he prefers flashier outfits, and Papa wears black robes for blending purposes.

While Papa slips their hands away, Dad motions to Rey and Finn. Rey crawls by Dad’s seat, and he lifts her into his lap. Even though Rey is growing too big to be cuddled, he holds her anyway. Not to be left out, Dad also allows Finn to perch with them as well.

Once they are squished in the round-backed white seat, Papa pats their heads. Rey emits a giggle as Papa loosens smaller strands from her topknot. Papa drags his fingers across Finn’s buzzcut, and they share a determined look.

Finally, Papa locks eyes with Dad and leans down, kissing Dad’s forehead. Dad’s frown flips into a smile as Papa drops to a fluid crouch.

Papa smiles through his thickening beard, eyes sparkling, at Rey and Finn. “Hold your Dad tight, alright?”

Rey bobs her head. Finn curls into Dad’s side.

“That’s the spirit, Finn,” Papa says.

Papa goes to the center of the Council room. He faces Kanan and Ahsoka, sitting with crossed legs.

“You seem ready,” Ahsoka comments, “good.”

“To recap,” Leia says, “Ezra is going to project himself into the future. He will fade for five minutes in our time, one hour in future time. During this time, Ezra will gather as much information as he can, without jeopardizing himself or the various timelines, about the emerging threat of the most powerful Darksider the Force has ever known.”

With the wave of her hand, a holo recorder floats to the center of the room. The lens trains on Papa.

“Are you ready to begin, Ezra?”

Rey wants Papa to say no. She wants Papa to refuse and come back to their seat.

“I am,” Papa answers, not a hint of fear or worry in his tone.

Papa straightens his posture. His bun, secured by sheer willpower alone, dusts the back of his neck.

And then, before Rey’s very eyes, Papa flickers like an old holochess set.

Startled, she shifts forward, but is held back by Finn. When they lock eyes, his subsequent look calms her. 

When she sweeps her gaze back to the floor, Papa is gone.

Dad holds his breath, the Jedi Masters equally befuddled by the action.

“Damn,” Leia mutters, “that was freakier than expected.”

“One minute elapsed,” Kanan reports.

“Heartbeat?” Leia prompts.

“Steady,” Ahsoka and Dad answer in unison.

“Good,” Leia clenches her brown robes to refrain from tapping her foot, “since I don’t want to sit in silence for four more minutes, I need actual advice on how to deal with an unruly seven-year-old.”

“What was it you said to me, Rey?” Kanan asks her gently.

Dad’s head tips down at the inquiry. Rey gains the undivided attention of Leia and Ahsoka as well.

The Five Jedi Masters...want to listen to her?

“I-I said,” Rey raises her voice, “I said that excess kindness and understanding would help.”

Leia blinks. Ahsoka smiles in the silence, placing a hand over her mouth to suppress laughter.

Rey curls into her Dad’s side in embarrassment. Dad drops a kiss to her head, causing her to squirm.

Dramatically, Leia rises from her seat. She holds up her hands. “I don’t deserve this chair. You can sit in it, Rey.” She shakes her head, dual braids swinging. “Karabast.”

“That’s okay,” Rey chimes, “sit down, Auntie.”

Leia plops down in her seat, frowning at her lap. “Blast,” she whispers to herself, “is a nine year old really wiser than me?”

“It’s not your strong suit,” Dad teases his sister, “but everyone has their gifts, Leia.”

“Right,” Leia mutters, picking up her head and grimacing. “That’s very helpful, Rey. Thank you.”

A twinge belonging to Finn captures Rey’s immediate attention.

Finn is looking at Kanan and Leia like he wants to say something. But he bites his lip instead, gaze focusing on the floor.

“What?” Rey asks him.

“Nothing,” Finn mumbles.

Concerned, Rey leans over Dad’s torso to study Finn’s restrained profile. His jawline is tight, indicating he is gritting his teeth to prevent from speaking.

Finn is normally so shy, so calm, even though he is comfortable among them all. What provokes such a reaction in him?

“We have two minutes,” Ahsoka reports uneasily. “What’s the matter, Finn?”

Finn curls in on himself, crossing his arms.

What gets him to look up is Dad murmuring, “what’s wrong, honey? You can tell us.”

“No I can’t.”

“Yes,” Dad emphasizes, “you can.”

Finn hesitates, then all of his words spill out at once:

“I just think that treating any child with harshness is awful. You shouldn’t get angry when your child could have problems learning like I do and Luke and Ezra don’t treat me like Jacen and Ben are treated. Jacen has problems with his anger and frustration because Kanan doesn’t realize that Jacen has a hard time reading without the letters getting mixed up in his brain. Jacen thinks he’s stupid because he doesn’t learn fast and can’t process new information without intense concentration like me.”

Kanan purses his lips.

“Meanwhile,” Finn blurts, “Ben has such a bad temper because his mind screams at him. There’s so much going on inside his head that, when I’m alone meditating, it’s the first mind I can grasp onto. It’s so loud and strong that it hurts; I can’t imagine living inside that head. It could be a result of Han and Leia being so angry all the time, or it could be a learning problem where he can’t quiet his own mind.”

Leia is visibly disturbed.

“So honestly,” Finn sighs, “not to go against your methods of parenting, but you’re not helping Jacen or Ben by being mean. What’s really going on is a lack of communication, and I can’t stand hearing Ben’s screaming or Jacen’s boiling in my head, so that needs to get fixed pronto.”

Finn shuts his mouth and buries his head in Dad’s side. The following silence is deafening.

Rey blinks, absorbing the influx of information. Finn is not a lengthy talker by nature; he chooses his words meticulously. This instance might have been the most words Finn has said in at least a week.

She cannot sense the obvious problems her cousins grapple with on a daily basis. Only Finn has that level of perceptiveness. Only Finn taps into other’s emotions so effectively. Only Finn can pass through layers of Force shields with ease.

What else can Finn do that he is not aware of?

“Okay,” Dad looks down at Finn, “you’re more powerful than you look, bud. Thank you for speaking up,” he stares pointedly at the opposite side of the room, “or who knows what we would have had to deal with in the future.”

Leia furrows her brows and ducks her head. Kanan simply looks in their vicinity and says nothing.

“Five minutes,” Ahsoka mumbles.

They shift and survey the center of the room.

Papa returns in the exact position where he left. He solidifies, then spins around while still sitting.

There is excess weight to his soul, a shadow plaguing his blue irises. He is burdened with knowledge.

But upon registering Dad, the pain melts away. He directs his smile to Rey, Finn, and Dad.

“Oh,” he moves to the seat, his aura brightening as his eyes drink them in, “I’ve missed you.”

“Ezra,” Dad says gently, following Papa’s movement as he crouches in front of the seat, “are you alright?”

“I am now.”

“H-how,” Dad furrows his brows, “how long were you gone?”

Papa’s face falls. He takes a long beat to answer.

“Um,” Papa blinks, “I miscalculated. S-Sorry. I was, well,” he worries his lip, facial hair tickling his mouth, “I was gone for a day.”

“A day?” Dad asks brokenly. “A whole d-day?”

“Hey,” Papa soothes, reaching up to cup Dad’s cheeks, “none of that. I’m okay. I promise I’m okay. Not a scratch on me.”

When Dad sniffles, Rey hugs his side. Dad smiles with glistening eyes down at her. 

Papa grins radiantly. “Oh, I did miss you.”

Removing his hands from Dad’s face, Papa kisses Finn’s cheek, sensing something off with him but choosing to wait until later to ask. He kisses Rey’s nose to heighten her spirits, and she giggles at the bristle of his beard. He leans forward to kiss Dad’s forehead again, which disperses the moisture in Dad’s eyes.

“Okay.” Papa steps away. 

His seat, which had been left empty, is dragged right next to Dad’s. Papa lowers himself into the seat. His aura brightens at his family corralled into Luke’s chair. 

Papa regards a baffled Ahsoka, Kanan, and Leia. “Now, I’ll tell you what happened. Ready?”

Ahsoka nods. “We’re recording.”

“Good,” Ezra clears his throat, “okay. I was projected a couple years into the future as intended. Sometime between then and now, the galaxy is,” he scratches his beard absently, “we’re at war again.”

“What?” Leia sounds small. The words absorb, and she winces. “How…what?”

“We aren’t talking about prevention anymore,” Papa warns, “we’re talking about containment.”

“Of what?” Ahsoka prompts.

Papa exhales through his nose. Everyone stares at him, so he hides his gaze in his lashes. Rey aches for her Papa’s dull pain, prevalent in his Force presence.

“Our enemy is a cultist dictatorship that sweeps the Galactic Republic with its sudden power,” Papa informs. “They call themselves the First Order.”

Finn bristles.

“Finn?” Rey interrupts. “Do you know who they are?”

Everyone turns to Finn, and he flushes at the unrelenting attention he is receiving throughout the course of this meeting.

Finn replies, with a parched voice, “they killed my parents.”

The silence has Rey exhaling shallowly.

“Bounty hunters killed your parents,” Rey murmurs, tears rising, “I don’t understand.”

“Oh,” Papa breathes in realization, “they’ve already been here. They’ve been here this whole time.” He surveys the contents of the room, expression frozen in horror. “None of us noticed.”

Rey swallows thickly, refusing to look away from Finn. “They had a bounty on your parents because they were holo news writers. That’s what you said.”

“Yes,” Finn corroborates, “and they found something out that would expose the First Order’s practice of...of…”

Finn gulps, and he curls into Dad.

“Growing babies and kidnapping child soldiers?” Papa prompts hollowly.

“What?” Ahsoka is haunted by the information.

“The timeline fits,” Papa sighs, “they’ve been doing it for years. By the time it gets to the future, the children they are training will be old enough to start a war.”

But Rey is thinking about something else. Her heart stops for a full second.

“They were going to take you,” tears fall down her cheeks, “Finn, they were going to take you and turn you into one of them.”

Dad, who is eerily silent, brushes away Rey’s tears. Rey hiccups as Finn peers over at Papa, who was crumbling into pieces before them.

“The First Order is run by Darksiders,” Papa manages, struggling not to make a scene, “they call him Supreme Leader Snoke.”

“Snoke?” Ahsoka furrows her brows. “Never heard of him.”

Kanan suggests, “it could be a misnomer.”

Ahsoka nods in agreement. “The Darksider orchestrating all of these problems with Time has to be someone worse than Palpatine.”

“Darth Bane is a possibility,” Kanan guesses, “he’s the reason only two Sith Lords can rule the galaxy at one time.”

“I wouldn’t rule out Count Dooku or Asajj Ventress either,” Ahsoka says, “both always had tricks up their sleeves.”

“Or Darth Revan,” Kanan counters, “a Mandalorian Sith. He has plenty of reason to hate the Jedi.”

“Can you both be done?” Leia asks impatiently.

Ahsoka winces. “Sorry. Got carried away.”

“Go on, Ezra,” Kanan says.

“Supreme Leader Snoke has an elite band of Sith mercenaries that wreak havoc on the galaxy,” Papa reports, “they’re called the Knights of Ren. One of them is Snoke’s personal apprentice, his...his Darth Vader, if you will.” Papa winces at the analogy. “Sorry, love.”

“It’s fine,” Dad mumbles.

Rey blinks; when she was told by her Dad that she was descended from Sith Lords, she thought he was lying.

‘You are good, Rey,’ Dad murmured to her after his confession months earlier. ‘You have no idea how bright you are. If you are kind and you believe in the Light, you are safe, like I am.’

Rey wonders what the boundaries for safety are considering these new circumstances.

Papa continues, “Snoke’s apprentice goes by the name Kylo Ren. He wears a black-silver helmet, so his identity is unknown to any records I was able to access. I don’t know...I…I feel like...”

“What?” Dad prompts.

Papa hesitates before replying, “I...I feel like we might know who he is. Somehow. I don’t know. Just a feeling.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Leia says in order to keep the story moving forward.

“Okay, um,” Papa recalls, “their troopers look largely the same. They have more advanced weaponry. It’s actually quite,” he frowns, “quite terrifying. They just...destroy. They don’t care about anything. And that’s scary.”

Dad locks eyes with Papa. Neither speak for a moment.

Dad regards the three Jedi. “Ezra needs time to process. I’ll help him remember and verbalize details.”

“Good idea,” Ahsoka smiles weakly at Papa and rises from her seat, “I’m sure you’ll both figure it out together. You always do.”

Ahsoka slinks past Papa’s seat and brushes her hand over his beard. Papa snorts at the gesture as she leaves the Council room.

Kanan rises next. “I suppose I must find my son,” he says regretfully, “to ensure he is not causing himself more disgruntlement.”

The blind man leaves unaided, Leia sighing as she stands. “Guess I have to talk to Ben and Han too.”

She glides out of the Council room, allowing the Organa-Bridger family to have time alone.

Papa furrows his brows at the parallel statements. “Did I miss something?”

“Oh,” Dad smiles down at Rey and Finn, “just our children being the best.”

“Is that right?” Papa is giddy. “Do you want to swap stories?”

“As long as you promise to tell me everything later,” Dad emphasizes. “And I do mean everything.”

“Yes,” Papa says eagerly, “I promise, Luke.”

Dad launches into the story of Rey and Finn’s batches of wisdom. Papa’s face lights up with such pride and love that Rey almost forgets they are talking about the start of a war.

Almost.

————

Jacen Jarrus-Syndulla didn’t actively go through life wanting to be frustrated, but he can’t measure up. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t measure up to what others think he should be, least of all what his father wants him to become.

He ends every lesson in the Temple simmering at his own failures. He stalks out of the building in his free time and practices with a training bot in the common area of the Ghost. Since Sabine and Zeb prefer to wander Lothal in the daytime when they aren’t on a mission, the Ghost is empty save for his mother performing routine repairs.

Jacen turns on the hovering training bot, the spherical machine awaiting his instruction to begin the barrage of bolts. Jacen strips down to brown leggings and a moss green undershirt baring his arms. He turns on his lightsaber, bleeding and thrumming blue, and uses the Force to activate the bot.

His mind falls into a steady rhythm as he blocks blaster bolts. He switches forms to stay moving, enjoying how easy it is for him to practice uninterrupted by other students’ noisy Force presences.

Midway through a stream of bolts being fired, Chopper wheels into the common area from behind him sounding particularly gleeful about zapping a criminal who tried to nab him.

A bolt flies past Jacen’s shoulder and scorches the wall. Chopper emits an Artoo-esque screech as the bot ends its training sequence.

Jacen whirls around and shuts off his lightsaber. Sabine and Zeb gasp, as they narrowly miss getting hit by the blaster bolt that stains the wall.

Tucking the lightsaber in the back of his pants, Jacen does not have the energy to be sheepish. The fire in his blood still boils from what Dad said to him about not being ready to know privileged information.

“Jace,” Sabine’s eyes are wide as she approaches him, “what’s going on?”

Chopper asks the same question in binary.

Zeb regards Jacen lazily as he prompts, “is it your Dad again?”

Jacen purses his lips and says nothing. His teeth clench as he looks to the training bot. He uses the Force to call the spherical contraption into his waiting arms. His grip on the Force is tentative, but effective as it sails smoothly. When the training bot rests against his chest, he clicks it off and holds it like a tooka doll.

Before Jacen musters an answer, Mom rushes into the room gasping.

“I heard shots,” she breathes, “are you okay, baby?”

As Mom comes up to hold his shoulders, she registers the training bot and frowns.

“I thought I told you to inform me when you trained in here,” she says sternly.

Jacen winces and says weakly, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

The stab of embarrassment and melancholy in his voice must have an effect on Mom, because her green eyes soften as she studies his conflicted expression.

“Oh, honey,” her green-skinned hand cups his cheek tenderly, “is it your father again?”

Jacen exhales through his nose, clutching the training bot.

Mom’s eyes blaze. “I told him,” she growls, “I told him to be patient with you.”

Jacen is affronted; he didn’t know his parents had arguments about him.

“Oh,” Mom huffs as she looks away, “I’ll grab that man by the ear and throw him out of this ship. I don’t care that he’s blind.”

“Calm down for a minute, Hera,” Sabine placates by the doorway.

“What did he say, Jace?” Zeb asks from over Mom’s shoulder.

Mom removes her hand from Jacen’s cheek, gaze piercing through him while she awaits his reply.

Since his mother terrifies him, Jacen answers, “he doesn’t trust me with secret Jedi stuff. I saw Rey and Finn in a Council meeting with the adults. Rey and Finn!”

Mom scowls. “That doesn’t sound very fair.”

“It isn’t.”

Mom whips her head towards Dad and arches up a fist. “You better have something good to say. I’m beginning to regret several actions in my life involving you.”

Dad shuffles towards Mom and winces, halting a distance away. Zeb and Chopper stare on one side of him while Sabine arches a brow at him from the other side.

“Jacen,” Dad says, “it has come to my attention that you have trouble reading, and my methods of teaching have aggravated you more than helped you.”

Mom’s eyes glisten as she regards Jacen. “Is that true, honey?”

Jacen blushes green. He hangs his head and nods slowly.

He doesn’t know how Dad found this out, but that didn’t matter. He knew now. It was up to him to figure out what to do.

Dad stumbles closer, Mom taking slight pity and holding his shoulder as leverage. Milky eyes study Jacen, and a part of him aches.

What does Dad see when he imagines Jacen?

“Jace,” Dad says, Jacen holding the training bot tightly, “I’m sorry for making you angry for so long. I suppose I’m blind in more ways than one.”

Sabine snorts, “lame.”

“So lame,” Zeb masks with a cough.

“I will do what I can,” Dad vows, ignoring the remarks, “to help you. I can’t promise I won’t get frustrated, but I swear I’ll be more patient.”

Jacen’s surprise is apparent in his tone as he says, “that’s as good as it’ll get, I guess.”

Dad grimaces. “We may be luminous beings, but we aren’t perfect.”

Jacen rolls his eyes. “Dad’s words of wisdom, installment number thirty-six.”

Chopper cackles in binary chirps as Sabine scoffs. Zeb makes an excuse to exit the room as Mom coaxes Dad and Jacen into a hug.

Gathered in his parent’s arms, Jacen’s aura beams at the warm feeling of contentment. 

And there’s no way he’s mentioning that scorch mark on the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments help me write and edit!


	6. Age 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey criss-crosses on the floor of the Tantive VII common room. With shut eyes, she dips into the Force as easily as securing a shawl around her shoulders.
> 
> Her connection to Dad thrums with unbeatable strength. As they near D’Qar, her connection to Papa and Finn stretches out like a thin band of elastic. It does not make their connection less profound, but it is harder to concentrate on them.
> 
> Dad does not want to visit the first base that the Resistance built, but Papa convinced him to go for the betterment of the galaxy. This base had to be correctly outfitted for enemies that have yet to emerge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I’m swamped with homework, I wanted to put up this transitional chapter before the weekend posts get more substantial.

Rey criss-crosses on the floor of the Tantive VII common room. With shut eyes, she dips into the Force as easily as securing a shawl around her shoulders.

Her connection to Dad thrums with unbeatable strength. As they near D’Qar, her connection to Papa and Finn stretches out like a thin band of elastic. It does not make their connection less profound, but it is harder to concentrate on them.

Dad does not want to visit the first base that the Resistance built, but Papa convinced him to go for the betterment of the galaxy. This base had to be correctly outfitted for enemies that have yet to emerge. 

The reason Papa and Finn weren’t coming along to help is due to Finn’s levitation test. Since Finn is two years behind the other students his age, he is expected to pass basic tests of Force ability. When Rey left, Finn was confident he would pass.

Dad reaches the common room. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she pictures his raised brow and slow footsteps.

“Hm,” he muses, “I wonder where my daughter has gone. She was right here.”

Oh. Rey turned invisible again.

When she delves too deep, that is what happens. Maybe one day she would be able to fade away like Papa, or Force project like her Dad.

Besides, turning invisible was fairly common for short periods of time. Rather than worry, the Jedi made a game out of it.

“Well,” Dad skirts towards the booth, “she’s not hiding under the table.”

Rey decides to have a little fun. Soundlessly, she opens her eyes and rises from her position on the floor.

She throws herself onto his back. “Gotcha!”

Dad laughs as Rey holds his middle in a hug. He swings her around a little. “You did get me!” 

Rey giggles as she slides away from Dad, boots clodding on the floor. He turns around to face her with a bright smile.

“You’re good at that, huh?” Dad tucks strands of hair behind Rey’s ears. “Very impressive move.”

“We’re almost there, right?” Rey asks.

“Yes,” Dad ushers her into a booth, “and do you remember what we talked about?”

“I can’t use the Force,” Rey parrots, climbing into the seat next to Dad.

“Right,” Dad tips his head down, “it’s important that you act with decorum and restraint. Normally, I would not ask you to do so, but we’re entering a military facility. It’s all about control.”

“Yes, Dad,” Rey confirms.

“Good,” Dad bobs his head, “I appreciate this very much, Rey. Now, would you like me to do your hair?”

Rey jumps in her seat. “Triple buns!”

Dad chuckles. “As you wish.”

-

Bouncing in her gray outfit, Rey hobbles holding Dad’s hand. The base has a lengthy hangar bay composed of thick concrete outside the facility. A new class of starships forming a red X are lined up on one side, while the other side has personalized shuttles for multiple crew members. Everyone wears orange, gray, or beige as they dart around foot traffic.

Raymus and Wedge, who guide them forward, babble to Dad.

“The base itself is still a bit of a mess,” Wedge reports, “so I don’t know why Mon insisted on bringing you here right away, but,” he shrugs.

“Don’t be surprised if you run into familiar faces,” Raymus says. “So many of us joined in once Mon called us out of retirement that it’s actually troubling.”

“A lot of them were bored,” Wedge says.

“Including us,” Raymus adds.

The base garage opens as if on cue. Rey trots along with her hand in Dad’s, entering the military base.

Mon is waiting with several beings that Rey does not recognize. Rey pays them no mind as Mon addresses her Dad.

“Good flight?”

Dad bobs her head. “Uneventful.”

“Wonderful,” Mon nudges her head, “I’ll show you around.”

Rey drowns out the boring adult talk, focusing instead on the massive amount of space. The base looked so small on the outside, but its underground levels and hidden hallways are a perfect place for an adventure. She loves exploring the Lothal Temple, but a new layout to traverse was much needed.

Once Mon gives them a brief tour, she says, “there’s a list of friends who want to see you again, Luke. I’m surprised I’ve held them back this long.”

As they enter the hangar bay again, there is a monstrous gathering of personnel in orange and beige. They whisper amongst each other, a large striped being shushing them as the trio approaches.

“What’s this, Mon?” Dad looks over at her.

Mon says nothing as they reach the group and stand at attention. The crowd breaks out cheering:

“WELCOME BACK, LUKE!”

Dad sighs, flushing as they applaud. 

“Mon,” he says weakly, “I said no.”

Rey lets go of Dad’s hand and steps back, skirting herself behind his legs. While not particularly shy, she feels strange amongst these beings she does not remember. 

Dad is the recipient of a hug from a woman with orange-purple hair who is vaguely familiar.

A memory that is not Rey’s own plays across the familial Force bond with her Dad. He is sitting in a booth on a messy gray starship, probably the Ghost, applying hair dye to the woman. They are teenagers, Dad’s features youthful and the woman’s eyes blazing with hazel curiosity.

‘Black and purple,’ Dad announces in the memory, ‘how come you’ve never thought of it?’

The woman snorts. ‘I prefer brightness to contrast with my mood.’

‘Well,’ Dad suggests, ‘maybe you can switch in the opposite direction.’

The friendly moment is broken by Papa walking into the common room. His reaction is not what Rey expects; he winks at Sabine and ignores Dad’s bristle.

Whatever the story is there, Rey decides that she doesn’t want to know.

Dad sets down the Mandalorian-armored woman and smiles. “Good to see you too, Sabine.”

A being that Rey recognizes as a Lasat squeezes her Dad tight. “How’s that Lothalian nightmare doing?”

Dad laughs. “Ezra’s Ezra. What can I say, Zeb?”

The Lasat focuses his green eyes on Dad in amusement as he pulls back. “I don’t envy you for having to deal with him, Luke.”

Rey receives a brief memory of Papa throwing a meiloorun fruit at Zeb’s head. Dad shakes his head in the doorway as they run around the starship and have a food fight.

A thickly-bearded old man with a shaved head shares a brief hug with Dad. “It’s been too long, kid.”

“Is everyone a kid to you, Rex?” Dad jokes.

“Certainly, sir,” Rex deadpans.

This memory is of Dad sharing a drink with the older man. Whatever they laugh about is unheard by Rey.

A scrappy woman with pilot’s headgear and smuggler clothes hugs Dad fiercely. “I miss you, dude.”

Dad quips, “I have that effect on people, yes.”

The woman pulls away and lightly punches his arm. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up.”

Rey receives a memory of the woman giving Leia stitches while Dad stifles giggles.

‘I can’t believe you tripped over a crate,’ Dad teases.

Leia sends him a sour look. ‘Be quiet.’

The woman, a doctor of some kind, snickers. ‘Since this is my medbay, I give Luke permission to laugh until he cries.’

Dad beams. ‘Thank you, Aphra.’

The next person to demand a hug is a tan-skinned older woman with curly silver-black hair and sharp brown eyes. “You look lovely, hon. How’s our Ezra doing?”

Dad beams brightly; this woman must be important to him. “Considering nothing’s exploded at the Temple, Ezra’s doing great.”

The woman snorts. “Tell him he better come along next time or there will be consequences.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dad nods curtly.

The memory that Rey gets this time is of Dad standing below an X-wing as the woman fixes something in the cockpit. 

A teenage Dad hands her tools and asks, ‘is my advice working, Shara?’

Shara peers down at him and narrows her eyes. She sounds disappointed as she replies, ‘possibly. Socket wrench.’

Dad hands her the tool and smiles to himself.

Followed by Shara, a man with a military buzzcut claps Dad’s shoulder. “My wife’s serious,” he says, “she will take offense next time.”

Dad smiles. “I’ll relay the message vehemently, Kes.”

The memory is a flash for Rey. Her young Dad stands in a forest, silver weapons swinging around his poncho, speaking to Kes, who leads a pack of soldiers forward into danger.

Dad told Rey that he wasn’t an extremely active presence in the war, but she supposes exceptions had to be made.

And are those lightsabers on his belt? They are jarring to Rey. She is used to seeing Papa’s double-sided yellow-blue lightsaber, as Papa teaches lightsaber defense training to the older kids, but Dad?

She has never seen her Dad’s lightsabers. The rumor that goes around the Temple is that Dad never owned any.

Rey wonders where her Dad hides them, or if he lost them years ago. And she wonders what colors his lightsabers are; her Papa’s are unique, so that means Dad’s are either ordinary or even more perplexing.

Rey shakes her head to disperse her musings. Raymus and Wedge usher forward two blonde women.

“Hey Evaan,” Dad greets as the orange-clad woman holds him tight, “you’re hurting my lungs.”

“Good!” Evaan punches his arm, causing Dad to snicker and pull back. “It’s been literal years, Organa!”

“I’m sorry,” Dad holds up his hands as he says genuinely, “I’ve been busy.”

Rey sees a memory of Dad and Evaan having a landspeeder race over a field of grass. Rey wants to guess it is Lothal, but the sky is purple rather than blue.

When her Dad wins the race, Rey bristles. She had no idea that her Dad could fly! Why doesn’t he fly anymore?

Evaan scoffs as the other woman, the one with platinum hair, says, “it’s alright, Luke.” She claps his shoulder rather than bring him in for an embrace. “Evaan just misses you more than she’ll admit.”

Dad counters, “miss you too, Winter.”

Winter’s memory is set inside a massive library, even bigger than the one on Varykino. Rey gasps when her Dad, a pampered child, listens to Winter read him a story on the couch. Despite the room reflecting the darkness of a rainstorm, Dad is peaceful by the woman’s side.

The next being to shake Dad’s hand is a dark-skinned man standing beside Wedge. “Good to see you again.”

“You too, James,” Dad nudges his head to indicate Wedge, “keeping this one on lockdown?”

“I let him fly because it’s the only way he’ll listen,” James says with an eye roll.

The flash that Rey gets is of Dad and James toasting to something. Papa and Wedge were curled around their significant other like Loth-cats while they drank.

Finally Dad receives hugs from Chewbacca, Hera, and an orange-clad Poe. 

Dad’s memory with Chewbacca includes Uncle Han running around the Millennium Falcon having a fit over a broken motivator. All Dad and Chewbacca do is chortle at Uncle Han’s temper whilst Artoo and Threepio play holochess.

His memory with Hera involves the Twi’lek allowing Dad to guide the Ghost out of the docking bay. While Rey’s knowledge on the Ghost crew is sorely limited, she knows this: Hera never lets anyone near the controls of her beloved freighter. The fact that her Dad used to help fly it shocks Rey.

The final memory that Rey sees with Poe is of the teenager as a baby. Rey is awestruck as Dad sings to soothe a fussing Poe while Papa gapes at him. Shara and Kes are under Dad’s spell as Poe drifts off to sleep. Dad places Poe inside a cot. Papa walks over to kiss Dad’s cheek.

‘See?’ Papa murmurs dazedly. ‘My love is special.’

Dad backpedals from the crowd, realizing that Mon left him to his greetings and Rey is hiding behind him. He holds out an arm and flexes his fingers in invitation.

“Where’d my baby go?” He asks, looking up at the sky.

Rey smiles at the inquiry and trots away from his legs. The crowd gasps. She grasps Dad’s hand. Dad smiles down at her.

“Ahhhh by the stars,” someone whispers.

“She’s so cute,” another murmurs.

“For a human,” Zeb mumbles, “I suppose so.”

Dad crouches to be level with Rey’s height. He grins up at the crowd.

“This is Rey,” Dad projects, then looks over at her, “wanna say hi, Rey?”

Rey waves. “Hi.”

“Awwwwww,” they say in unison.

Rey flushes; she’s not treated like a harmless little girl often. It’s amusing.

Dad rises while holding Rey’s hand. “Rey and I need to get settled into a room. We’ll be back.”

There are farewells as Dad guides Rey towards the base.

————

Finn Organa-Bridger is freaking himself out. Even after all of these months and years practicing, it comes down to a single test. 

And while he felt confident the night before, waking up to the day itself had Finn paralyzed in his bed.

He does not know how long he stays there without moving. The sun’s changing positions through the window could mean minutes or hours.

When Finn’s stomach grumbles for food, there is a knock at his door. “Finn, honey?”

The voice belongs to Ezra. Finn does not answer, hugging his pillow tighter to his body.

There is a sigh behind his door. “I know you’re scared. I know you don’t want to take the test.”

Finn curves his face so he can see the door. His nerve endings buzz at the movement.

“Honey,” Ezra says softly, “you’re stronger than you know. Remember when you spoke up at the Council meeting? That was brave. Luke spared no detail when he showed me how brave you are, Finn. So tell me: can you be brave again today?”

Out of curiosity rather than inspiration, Finn slips away from his messy bed, his numb joints livening up, and keys open the door. Ezra is waiting with an array of fruits in a clay bowl.

Finn mumbles, “your speech was choppy. I don’t believe you used to write for Luke with that poor sentence structure.”

Finn allows him entry. As the door closes, Ezra laughs boisterously. He snorts as he crouches in front of Finn while balancing the fruit bowl.

“It has been a while,” Ezra admits amusedly, “but thank you for the reality check.”

Ezra offers Finn the bowl. Finn’s stomach grumbles again, so he takes it and walks to the vanity. He sets the bowl there and climbs on his cushioned seat. He plucks out squares of a starfruit and chews one slowly to savor the tartness.

Ezra sits on the rectangular seat, mirroring Finn’s criss-cross. The seat is small, so their knees touch companionably.

“Finn,” Ezra says to his reflection, “can I share a story with you?”

Finn shrugs in admission as he eats fruit squares.

“When Luke and I were young-” Ezra begins.

Finn remembers Rey’s remark that growing up to get married was gross, an opinion that he agrees with completely. His knee-jerk reaction is merely to comment, “ew.”

Ezra arches a bemused brow, which is comical paired with his beard and mischievous eyes. “When we were young, and Luke was learning how to deliver speeches in front of crowds, he was terrified. So scared that he would get as still as a statue while he was waiting for his cue. Some of the time, I don’t think he breathed.”

Finn’s heartbeat spikes. “And this is supposed to help me?”

Ezra chortles. “You’re too much, Finn. The thing that would snap Luke out of his fear was...well...knowing that people he could trust were there. Just knowing he was going to be safe, knowing that even if he messed up, someone would pick him up and encourage him to keep going.”

“And I assume that someone,” Finn groans, “was you?”

Ezra suppresses laughter. “Not always.”

“I get it,” Finn sighs as he pops a fruit square in his mouth, “I’m fine.”

“Great,” Ezra pats his shoulder and stands, “finish up and shower. The test is in a half hour.”

As Ezra leaves, Finn sighs and chews starfruit.

-

Finn sits in the center of the meditation circle. Despite four of five Jedi Masters and a dozen older trainees in attendance, Finn is oddly calm. Whatever Ezra said helped, even though it wasn’t much.

Finn caught familiar faces smiling at him from the farthest rings: Jacen, Shira, Ben, and an iridescent Ezra. Ahsoka, Kanan, and Leia are close together as fair judges in the middle ring. Finn is amused that Ezra doesn’t care about concealing his affection.

Leia clears her throat to emphasize the silence. “Welcome to your levitation test, Finn Organa-Bridger. Are you ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Finn answers.

“Okay,” Leia blinks, “then lift me.”

“Leia-” Ahsoka says.

“Lift me,” Leia repeats, “if you can lift me, you don’t need to levitate anything else.”

Finn is unsure what to do. Is this a part of the test? If it isn’t, should he still assume it’s a part of the test?

He doesn’t think it’s normal for Leia to be so flippant in her order. Ahsoka’s tone suggests that this is indeed the truth. Leia is going off-book, either to trip up Finn since he is older or to prove an unknown point. 

Or simply because, from what Finn knows of Luke’s twin sister, Leia Skywalker is unpredictable.

Taking the latter into consideration, Finn decides with conviction, “I will continue with the pen and work my way up, ma’am. If you don’t mind.”

Leia inclines her head and sets a flimsi pen on the floor. “Go on, then.”

Finn does not have to close his eyes to levitate the pen, the datapad, or the chair. His concentration does not slip up as he raises and lowers the objects.

Leia crosses her legs tightly and says, “lift me now.”

Finn shuts his eyes. He hones in on Leia’s Force presence, picking it out easily amongst the rest. Leia is a self-contained flurry, a lightning bottle of energy, in contrast with the controlled auras in the room. Even Ben, whose mind screams in the Force, is blessedly silent, blending with the wavelengths of Kanan and Ahsoka, the oldest Jedi among them.

As if lifting a basket of fruit, Finn delicately handles Leia’s Force presence. She moves upwards smoothly. Finn’s instinct is to drop her, his heart rate spiking for an instant, but he breathes through it. He does not rush or slow down the ascent, keeping her steady. 

Finn is so immersed in the moment that any dialogue is lost to the air. He is riding the wavelength, allowing the Force to move without forcing it to follow his guidance. 

Leia holds still, at the peak of the mountain. Finn counts to five to keep her there.

What Ezra said in Finn’s bedroom suddenly makes sense. Bravery was not simply running into danger with no thought for his own safety. It was speaking up in a tough situation, like he did in the Council room. If he hadn’t verbalized his observations about Jacen and Ben’s struggles, both boys would be miserable. Jacen was prouder than ever at having Kanan as a supportive father, and Kanan in turn helped Jacen with his reading comprehension as arduously as required when addressing new material. Ben finally learned how to quiet his storm of a mind with Leia’s guided meditations. As a result, Ben was in a better mood.

Without realizing the equilibrium that Finn sails through, he brings Leia down in the exact ring where she perched. Leia’s hum upon touching the floor markings informs Finn that he had, indeed, used his newfound attunement with the Force to lower her without a struggle.

Finn opens his eyes slowly, faced with two dozen smiles.

“Seamless,” Leia remarks with a smirk, “just like Rey. A perfect score.”

Finn’s instinct is to grin and gloat, but he stomps on the urge. He bobs his head and says, “thank you, ma’am.”

Finn waits as Leia stands and receives Ben’s hand. Ben sends Finn a thumbs up behind Leia’s back as she whirls them around. Kanan, Ahsoka, and several spectators file out of the room behind Leia and Ben. Some smile and wave, which Finn returns.

When he turns back to the farthest rings, only Jacen and Ezra remain.

When the doors are shut again, Jacen draws out, “YOOOO THAT WAS CRAZY!” He cackles and claps so loudly that it reverberates through the room.

Ezra snorts at Jacen, offering up his arms. “Hug?”

Finn smiles wobbly, his entire body exhaling from the dull pressure of stress that accumulated before the test. He crawls over to Ezra, who yanks him into a sitting hug. Finn’s head is tucked into Ezra’s chest, beard scratching against buzzcut.

“You were so great,” Ezra muffles, “I recorded the whole thing.”

Finn groans. “Really, Ezra?”

“Yes,” Ezra grins, “and you’ll never find the evidence. I’ve hidden it away until Rey and Luke can watch it when they get back.”

“Good job, Finn,” Jacen claps Finn’s shoulder, “I’ll comm over the news.”

“Oh,” Ezra tips his head up as Jacen retreats, “and-”

“Record it?” Jacen snorts. “Fiiiine.”

Finn stifles a laugh at Jacen’s exhibitionist petulance as he leaves the room. Ezra coaxes him into an elongated hug.

————

Upon watching a holo recording of Finn passing his test, Rey and Dad receive a chime at the door. 

Dad answers the door and murmurs something to Raymus. After a moment, the older pilot leaves and Dad shuts the door.

“Mon’s having a briefing for the whole base,” Dad says, “so celebrations for Finn will have to wait.”

Rey does not reply as Dad slips on a beige vest that clashes with his violet robes.

Rey remembers what it is that she forgot to tell her Dad. They were so busy settling for the week that it slipped her mind.

She couldn’t afford such a mistake again.

As Dad brushes his hair and smooths out his clothes, he realizes that Rey has not moved from her couch cushion. He does a double take.

“Rey?” Dad blinks. “We have to go. Come on.”

Stubbornly, Rey stays. She has no idea how to tell Dad, but she is out of time to figure it out.

“Rey?” Dad senses something wrong, and he forgets about the meeting. He crosses the room and crouches in front of Rey’s cushion. “What’s wrong?”

Her mouth forms into a thin line. She looks down at her lap.

“I saw your memories,” Rey murmurs, “of...of them.”

Dad’s breath hitches. “When?”

“When they spoke to you,” Rey says, “but they were good memories.”

“Good memories?”

“Yes,” Rey affirms.

Dad hums as the cogs in his mind work in the background. “I may have projected them onto you by accident. I’m sorry about that, honey.”

“So it’s not,” Rey hesitates, “it’s not bad?”

“No,” Dad shakes his head, “not this time. But thank you for alerting me. It is wise to live on the side of caution in these circumstances.”

Abruptly, Dad rises to his feet and holds out his hand. He wiggles his fingers. His head tips towards the ceiling.

“Where’d my baby go?” He poses.

Rey giggles and grasps the hand, his Force-enhanced strength lifting her from the couch and onto the ground. 

Dad guides her out of the temporary room and through the base. Rey catches sight of a crowd forming in an open area.

Once Dad and Rey enter, the crowds part to give them space. Mon stands by a map table, and something in the Force triggers Rey’s warning systems.

Mon is pale. Very pale. Her hands splayed across the table keep her upright.

Her glassy eyes fixate on Dad. They are cold and unseeing.

“Luke,” Mon pants, “he’s in my head.”

With startling speed, Dad’s hand slips from Rey’s as he advances around the map table. He spins Mon to the side, allowing one hand to prop her up, and touches two fingers to her forehead. Mon jerks as if in defense against Dad, but he encircles her side so she does not lose her balance.

The moment of bated breaths from onlookers is agonizing. It grates against Mon’s sudden placidity and silence in an unsettling way.

Dad removes his fingers from Mon’s forehead, and Mon faints into his arms.

“I got him out,” Dad breathes, “now help her.”

Bodies rush to retrieve an unconscious Mon. Rey is lost in the noise.


	7. Age 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Poe,” Ezra says, “where’s Jacen?”
> 
> Poe blinks. “Driving around. Why?”
> 
> Ezra and Luke wear pained expressions. Mon does not meet his eyes, and neither does anyone else. 
> 
> Even though Poe doesn’t have the Force, he can tell something is very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiky orange fruit = Kiwano melon. They’re actually in Wookieepedia as a legitimate Star Wars fruit. I’ll explain the symbolism for this opening scene in the end notes.

Poe Dameron stands atop his hovering landspeeder, reaching up to twist off a spiky orange fruit. Ensuring it does not poke through his thick pair of gloves, he sets the fruit beside the others in a basket.

He didn’t expect to be put on food gathering duty today, but as an eighteen-year-old hopeful who dreams of flying combat missions with his own squadron, Poe takes whatever flying job he is allowed. Since Poe is still proving himself to the Generals, most of whom are his biased family members, that really meant he is trying to rise up on his own merits for Mon.

Ever since Mon recovered from her fall, she has not been the same woman. Poe figures that, soon, she would need replacements lined up. So far, Mon is taking a notable interest in him. 

Poe does not seek leadership, but leadership is seeking him. 

Rather than think too much about it, Poe keeps his head down and does as he is told, waiting for his moment to finally fly an X-wing.

An engine roars, causing several Dresstos to fly from their perches above the highest trees. Poe reaches to twist off the final fruit on the ripe tree.

A landspeeder thrums and screeches to a stop beside Poe’s. He sets down the fruit in the overflowing basket, turning to the side.

“Heyyyyy, dude,” Jacen winks, one hand on the wheel, “I need a favor.”

“When don’t you?” Poe squints his eyes to combat the sunlight.

Jacen’s freckles are stardust against his sharpened cheekbones. Even though they are weeks apart in age, Jacen’s elvish features garner rapt attention from every gender.

It wasn’t that Poe was interested in anyone on base romantically, but it is impossible not to notice Jacen’s unending queue as a Twi’lek-humanoid being.

Jacen’s windswept green hair offsets his endearing grin. “Aw, Poe. I’m sorry. I just...you’re my favorite cousin and my best friend and you never ever tell anyone what I’m doing so I trust you completely and-”

Poe sighs loudly; Jacen’s charms never cease to annoy him.

“What do you want?” Poe drops into the landspeeder seat and secures the fruit basket beside him.

Jacen’s eyes glitter with mischief. “I wanna show off the Phantom to someone tonight. If anyone asks, will you cover for me?” He pouts and makes flimsy prayer hands to hammer in his request.

Poe rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Jacen beams, slapping the wheel. “I knew you were my favorite cousin!”

Poe directs his attention to the landspeeder controls. He ignites the engine and brings it to a low hum. His foot ghosts the pedal and his hands settle on the wheel.

“Hey?”

Poe bats his lashes at Jacen. “Yeah?”

“If you’re ever looking for anyone,” Jacen says, “I know everybody.”

Poe scrunches up his face. “Gross.”

Jacen is affronted. “No! Not like that! Kriff! Do you really think I’m that much of a flirt?”

Poe shrugs. 

“Well, if you’re ever interested in anybody, I can help you, alright?”

“I’m not interested in anybody, so I’m fine.”

“Really?” Jacen narrows his eyes in disbelief. “No one? Never?”

Poe shakes his head and purses his lips.

“That’s too bad, man. I see how they look at you.”

“They?”

“Everyone our age on this base!” Jacen smirks in amusement. “Come on, are you serious right now?” He scoffs. “Do you really not know the sheer amount of people that give you looks? Like ‘I’d hit that if he asked’ looks?”

Poe shifts uncomfortably in his seat, turning back to the windshield. “I don’t care about that,” he says, “and now I regret asking.”

“Sorry, man, but you should be flattered. You’re a dreamy dude.”

Jacen presses his foot on the gas pedal. The landspeeder engine roars to heat up the rotundas.

“I’ll see you around, Poe,” Jacen says, procuring a pair of sunglasses and slipping them over his face. 

Jacen drives into the forest, away from base to explore, and Poe rolls his eyes.

He stomps on the gas pedal and swerves the landspeeder around the fruit tree. With the basket of spiky orange fruits beside him, he drives back to the Home One base.

By the time he docks in the outdoor hangar bay, several other food-gathering personnel had already arrived from their brief task. 

Though it wasn’t just that causing the sudden commotion.

Poe calls out to the first man he recognizes from pilot training. “Hey, Snap!”

Snap Wexley meets his gaze and jogs quickly to Poe’s landspeeder. When he slows down, Poe cuts the engine and leaves the keys on the seat.

Before Poe can hop out, he asks Snap, “what’s going on?”

The plump man five years his senior replies, “your older brother is here with Mon’s second.”

Poe bristles. “Ezra and Luke?!”

“Those are their names!” Snap nods as if remembering. “Yes. Those Jedi guys with the hair buns and the robes.”

“Do they have kids with them?” Poe inquires.

He has not seen Rey since Mon took her fall last year, and he wonders what ever happened to that boy she saved.

Finn. The boy’s name is Finn.

“Not that I know of,” Snap says with a shrug.

Poe hums; they would never leave their daughter behind without a very important reason. The details do not add up to him, so he dismisses Snap with an “alright, see you around.”

Snap jogs inside the base, trailing behind the narrowing crowds. Poe furrows his brows at the display and hops out of the landspeeder. Since he does not want to take any chances with the fruit, he decides to grasp the basket handles and heft it up while he walks.

Securing his grip, Poe carries the basket without a single spiky orange fruit toppling over by slipping through the cracks in the crowds. When he reaches the cargo area of the indoor garage, the congestion is at its thickest point.

Gritting his teeth and straining his muscles, he squeezes past personnel and finds an opening near a stack of supply crates. Finally breaking away from the crowds, Poe sets down the fruit basket on the ground. He sighs in relief and swipes back raven curls stuck to his forehead.

When his ears stop ringing from the noise and he looks over, he realizes the room is quiet.

Ezra and Luke stand to the side, Mon oddly silent as the entire crowd fixates on him.

Poe squints his eyes and places his hands on his hips. He projects his voice without a hint of embarrassment. “Can I help you all with something?”

Orange and beige suits duck their heads and look away. Poe’s pilot friends glance between him and the war veterans uneasily.

“Poe,” Ezra says, “where’s Jacen?”

Poe blinks. “Driving around. Why?”

Ezra and Luke wear pained expressions. Mon does not meet his eyes, and neither does anyone else. 

Even though Poe doesn’t have the Force, he can tell something is very wrong.

“We need to bring him home,” Luke says, “right now.”

“Okay,” Poe shrugs dumbly, “I’ll go find him, then. What should I tell him?”

There is a stifling silence.

Ezra’s skin grows waxy. Luke does not look at him.

“Tell him his Dad is hurt,” Ezra replies, “badly.”

The words hit Poe in the chest. The panic sets in, and spittle sticks in his throat.

“O-okay,” Poe manages, spinning around and walking briskly out of the garage.

-

Poe plops in the copilot’s seat of the Tantive VII, his fingers catching on the new chain clasped beside his pilot’s tags. 

Ezra decided now was the time to gift him a japor snippet Poe’s mother made, a late birthday present for becoming an official adult. While Poe could barely think coherently, he accepted the gift and tossed it over his neck. The metal is cold around his collarbone, the piece of symbolic wood digging into his chest beneath his shirt, but he figures he will learn to live with it. 

As Ezra directs his attention to a despondent Jacen, Poe chooses to leave the two alone and sit with Luke.

Luke flies the group back to Lothal at a frenetic pace. Poe insisted on riding along with them after watching Jacen crumple right in front of him. It was the polar opposite of how his cousin acted, his visage fading into mist. Poe saw in that moment how truly vulnerable Jacen could be, despite his choice to visit Home One with a startling frequency. It took whatever was happening to Kanan on Lothal for Jacen to understand what was important.

“Luke?” Poe prompts, his hand leaving the japor snippet chain and dropping into his lap.

Luke hums, jaw clenched in concentration as he breaks speed laws to return them to the Temple.

“Is Kanan going to die?” Poe inquires.

“No,” Luke replies curtly, “he’s just weakening.”

“Oh,” Poe frowns, “I don’t think I could ever be a Jedi. I-if that’s what you feel, I mean. If you can feel each other’s pain.”

Luke’s expression falters as he launches them out of lightspeed, but his control over the vessel remains steady. “It depends,” he offers, “it depends on the relationship you have with that person. Ezra and Jacen feel it worse because-”

“Kanan is Ezra’s second Master and Kanan is Jacen’s Dad,” Poe finishes, his mind reeling as the Tantive VII rockets into Lothal airspace.

He had no idea Luke was such a competent pilot. He should ask for tips sometime, when Kanan’s fate wasn’t in the balance.

“Yes,” Luke grits his teeth for a beat, as if registering a wave of pain, “but since my aura is so intertwined with Ezra’s, I feel what he does.”

“But not second hand like them,” Poe realizes, “third hand.”

“I suppose that’s right,” Luke eases onto the freighter brakes as the Tantive VII punches through the lowest layer of clouds, “remind me to hug you later when my brain isn’t being branded by a soldering iron.”

Without warning or ceremony, Luke curves the freighter around the Temple spires and lands next to the Millennium Falcon. Poe exhales deeply, surprised that his heartbeat isn’t racing at the speed of their flight.

Luke unbuckles himself. “Not bad, right?”

Poe barks out a laugh. “Impressive.” He clicks off his seat straps and rises along with Luke. “Damn.”

Luke opens the cockpit doors and motions for him to exit. 

Poe is a stoic spectator as a red-rimmed Jacen and stressed Ezra rush inside the Temple’s medbay. 

Luke and Poe hang back as they drink in Kanan’s appearance on the bed: there is nothing physically wrong with him, save for a pale face, but he is clearly weak from something involving the Force.

Hera holds Kanan’s hand as Jacen kneels on the opposite side of his bed.

“Dad,” Jacen murmurs, “I’m here.”

“Oh,” the blind man moves to curl his opposite hand around Jacen’s wrist, “are you alright, Jace?”

Jacen’s face twists. “No, you idiot.”

“Seconded,” Hera adds.

Jacen smiles wanly at his mother, then scowls at his father. “Why would you contact a Force ghost when you know that only Ezra has that power?”

Kanan’s expression falls as his marble eyes look at nothing. “I had a question.”

Jacen blanches. “A question that was worth risking your life?”

Kanan hums noncommittally. “I was merely inquiring about a...theory.”

Jacen snorts. “He teaches his disciples, including his own son, not to act on impulses and foolish theories, and what does he do? The exact opposite of his strict instructions.” His eyes well up with unshed tears as he asks Hera, “why do you love him? He’s so much work, Mom.”

Hera grimaces. “I ask myself that question more often than you think, Jace.”

Jacen sighs and slips his wrist away from Kanan’s loose grip. “What theory was it that made me come back from my vacation early?”

“Yeah,” Ezra steps forward with arms crossed, “what theory was that?”

Kanan clams up in his bed, recognizing the hostility and confusion permeating throughout the medbay.

“Well,” Kanan says lowly, “I have a sneaking suspicion I know who the Darksider is that’s causing all this madness in the Force.”

Poe arches a brow. He has no clue what they’re talking about, but he decides he doesn’t want to know. It’s best that he keeps his mouth shut and rides out the conversation in which he is already an outsider.

It never used to bother him before, being an outsider amongst Force sensitives. Maybe since he is surrounded by pilots and like-minded individuals now, his mind code-switched.

“Oh?” Ezra raises his famous skeptical thick brow, his body language poised for attack and steaming with anger. “And who would that be?”

“Babe,” Luke clutches Ezra’s forearm, “calm down.”

Ezra exhales deeply through his nose, sinking into Luke’s touch. Gaze glinting with sorrow, he murmurs, “sorry, love.”

Jacen makes a gagging sound. Hera backs him up.

Obviously used to this behavior, Kanan replies, “I want to be sure before I tell anyone.”

“Well,” Jacen shrugs, “I don’t see a Force ghost lining up to pay you a visit anytime soon.”

Suddenly, Luke’s arm flies up, his fingers pressing hard against one side of his temple. Ezra does the same motion, both staring at each other, eyes widening in fear.

“Rey,” they breathe in unison.

Everyone runs.

————

Rey is meditating alone to get her mind off of Kanan and her parents being gone when it happens.

As if someone grabbed her heartstrings and yanked them hard, she tumbles over on the floor. Her hands splat on the edges of the center ring and prop her up. If her hair were not gathered in a topknot, a curtain of thick brown-blonde strands would have spilled over her face.

Bent over in the front, Rey grits her teeth to regain concentration and looks up at a shimmering blue man.

“Oh!” The man crouches to face her with wide eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I’m trying to find my son or my daughter.”

Rey furrows her brows and pushes herself up. She crosses her legs over one another. She studies the man’s wavy brown hair, familiar face, and black robes.

“Are you a Force ghost?” Rey asks.

“Yes,” the man smiles kindly, “hello. My name is Anakin. What’s yours?”

Rey’s breath hitches. “Karabast.”

It floods in on Rey. She remembers Dad telling her about her grandfather, that he was a Jedi gone Sith then back to Jedi before he died. Dad never went too far into the details as to how that transition happened, as it caused him pain to recount the past, but she should have known who this was an instant after looking at him.

Rey could see the twins inside him: the shape of her Dad’s jawline, the way both stood as if commanding thousands, the set in their shoulders and the melancholy hidden carefully behind layered blue eyes; the fire that Aunt Leia exuded, even at resting state, the color of her hair, the strength and harshness of the desert in their speech.

This man is indeed Anakin Skywalker, the father of her Dad and her aunt, her biological grandfather.

“What?” Anakin asks, sitting on the middle ring to give her space. “Do you know who I am?”

A lump forms in Rey’s throat. “I do.”

“And?” Anakin is at ease as he awaits to learn the extent of her knowledge.

Emotion overcomes her in a surge. She is unused to the sudden lack of control, so she grasps the edges of her pearly robe to regain her composure.

Calmly and measuredly, Rey answers, “you’re my grandfather.”

Anakin does not react as she expects.

He grins, pitching forward like an excited child. “Really?” He bounces a little. “Oh wow! Did you hear that, guys?”

Cupping his hands over his mouth to project his voice, Anakin turns and yells, “I’M A GRANDFATHER!” He lowers his hands and mutters to himself, “take that, losers.”

He clears his throat and regards Rey. If it were possible a Force ghost could blush, that is what he does.

“Sorry,” Anakin says, “there are Force ghosts all over this place. It’s crazy. Anyway!” He straightens his posture. “Are you Luke’s or Leia’s?”

“Uh,” Rey finally registers that she is having a casual conversation with her Force ghost grandfather, “Luke’s.”

“Oh!” Anakin beams. “How wonderful. Ezra is your other father, then?”

“Yes…”

“Fantastic.” Anakin claps his hands once. “This is fantastic. No wonder I was able to grab onto your Force presence. Oh!” His eyes widen. “What’s your name? You never told me.”

“Rey,” she answers hesitantly.

“Oh,” Anakin chuckles, “that’s amazing. Luke and Rey. Light and Sun. Great to meet you.”

“Um,” Rey blinks, “not to be rude but...why am I seeing you?”

Anakin’s smile fades. “Well...it’s about very complicated matters that your parents and I have been aware of for several years. I don’t know how old you are, or how much time has passed since then, but I would rather speak to them about it.”

Rey bats her lashes at the sheer amount of words this man rushes out in a single breath.

She reveals, “I know a lot about all of it. I’m not sure how much, but,” she shrugs, “my parents trust me to understand.”

Anakin narrows his eyes. “Really?”

Rey bobs her head. “I was one of the first to realize something was wrong. I was six, then.”

Anakin blanches. “Wow. I suppose you’re older than you look. My bad, Rey. I can’t be too careful.”

Rey tilts her head; Anakin was the opposite of what she expected. From what little her Dad had told her, Anakin was a monster as a Darksider. He didn’t care about anything or anyone until Dad, Aunt Leia, and Ahsoka got through to him in the end.

She wonders if the Living Force has anything to do with his personality changes.

“So,” Rey asks, “what is this information you want to pass on to my parents?”

Anakin frowns. “Can’t I see them? Are they here? I don’t want you to have to keep repeating yourself.”

Rey notices the twinge of melancholic eagerness to speak with his children. She aches slightly for the man, who was doomed to an eternity being unable to contact them.

“I’m sorry,” Rey says, “I met you literally five minutes ago. I don’t know enough about you yet. And I don’t think they’ll react well to talking to you, considering Dad’s hardly told me anything besides the basics.”

“Oh,” Anakin bows his head and sighs, “alright, I understand. Just...I want to know, and I’m sorry for asking, but your Dad is a brilliant man, a kind and bright and forgiving man...why won’t he talk to me?”

Rey offers, “it...hurts Dad to think about the past. I can feel it. So I don’t ask unless it comes up.”

Anakin’s expression turns downcast. “That makes sense. Anyway,” he clears his throat, “ready to pass this on?”

“Okay,” Rey nods.

“The Darksider,” Anakin says, “that we’ve all been searching for,” he pauses, “is Darth Plagueis the Wise.”

Rey furrows her brows. “Who’s that?”

“He hasn’t come up?”

“They thought it was Darth Bane.”

Anakin snickers. “No. That guy sucks.”

“Okay,” Rey says, “who is he?”

“The Emperor’s Master,” Anakin answers, “and the Emperor was my Dark Master.”

“That sounds bad.”

“That’s because it’s very bad.”

“How do you know this?”

“Yoda projected himself into the past,” Anakin informs her, “and learned that Snoke and Plagueis were one in the same.”

“I thought that only Papa had that power,” Rey says confusedly.

“Ezra has the power to project himself in the future. No one else can travel to the future, only the past.”

“This is giving me a headache.”

“Me too,” Anakin bobs his head, “now I should get back to-”

Anakin turns to the side. He looks at something that Rey cannot see, and he shimmers.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin prompts. “Where’d you go?”

Abruptly, Anakin is torn away from the meditation room by an invisible hand. His body wrenches to the side as his blue body glitches and disappears into the air.

Rey jolts upwards on her inhale. “What the-”

A figure with a ginger beard emerges. Before Rey can open her mouth, two fingers press against her forehead. 

-

“What did you just do?!” Anakin exclaims.

“I brought her here,” an unfamiliar accent says.

“Why?! Why would you do that?!”

“She needs to see.”

“See what?!”

“The enemy.”

“I don’t see a need for such a risk,” a third voice says.

“Neither do I,” a woman says.

“Done, it is,” an old man says, “wake her, we must.”

Rey’s bodily functions awaken with her. She is somewhere cold, the air prickling her arm hairs and causing goosebumps. Her nose scrunches as she opens her eyes.

Several strangers stand above her in a white void. She only recognizes Anakin, who is now as solid as a regular person. She could make out the blonde tones to his shoulder-length hair, the tan notes to his skin, the height of his stature.

“Hi,” Anakin says weakly, “I’m sorry about my Master. He did something quite reckless.”

Rey uses her elbows to push herself off the ground. The whiteness is jarring, the exact opposite of the shadows within the meditation room. She moves to a comfortable sitting position and observes the haughty bearded man beside Anakin.

“For an introduction,” the man’s accent clips, “that was a very poor one. I apologize, child. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Rey recognizes the name. “You were my Aunt Leia’s Master.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan winces, “that’s a very loose term. I’m pleased to meet you, Rey.”

“I...never said my name,” Rey says in puzzlement.

Obi-Wan flushes. “We could all hear you when you spoke with Anakin.”

Anakin rolls his eyes at the man. “I don’t see how this is necessary.”

A cane smacks against the ground. Rey’s head whips to regard a short green-skinned old man with pointed ears. 

“Yoda?” Rey asks.

“Show her,” Yoda says.

Anakin frowns. Rey surveys other faces wearing Jedi robes: a Togruta, a Mirialan, a Nautolan, a Twi’lek, and a Kiffar are among Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Yoda’s ranks. The sheer amount of dead Force users around Rey renders her dizzy.

Slowly, Anakin crouches in front of Rey. “Grandmaster Yoda wants you to see Darth Plagueis and his many disguises so that you recognize him.” 

He holds out a hand, two fingers pressed together near her face. He pauses and meets her gaze uncertainly.

“Do you consent?” Anakin asks.

Rey bobs her head; she didn’t have much of a choice, anyway.

Anakin presses two fingers to her forehead.

Darth Plagueis appears in flashes, each one a different body.

Anakin’s voice narrates quickly, “he has gone undetected by Jedi for millennia. His last body is one your parents may recognize.”

Rey holds the image of a Chiss man in an Imperial uniform within her mind. The man looks important, his red eyes complimenting his blue skin and all-knowing smirk.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Anakin says, “one of the most cunning men in the galaxy. Ever since he died in prison, Plagueis has taken other forms.”

Rey’s mind sifts through the bodies of men and women who are supposedly of no importance to the Jedi. They are of every species, of every gender, of every possible background.

Her mind freezes on a final image. The bald man has baby pink skin, but it is destroyed by white veins and permanent scarring. While humanoid in form, the percentage of humanity left in harsh eyes and features is debatable.

“Supreme Leader Snoke,” Anakin announces, “will be his future body. As for this point in time, Plagueis is hiding in the body of the last Black Sun leader.”

The image is of a Falleen with moss-pigmented skin, hardened eyes, and a ponytail reaching his shoulders.

“His name is Xizor,” Anakin says, “and he is one of the most dangerous criminals left alive.”

Anakin retracts his fingers, and Rey opens her eyes.

“Am I supposed to find him?” Rey asks.

“Oh,” Anakin shakes his head, “no. The war with Plagueis is something that cannot be avoided. Revised, but not avoided.”

“Says who?”

“The Force.”

“The Force,” Rey tests, “well, can’t somebody try to get him before he switches bodies?”

Anakin sighs, “I know how ridiculous this sounds, but stepping in too soon and making a hit on Xizor will only make the war worse. Yoda’s seen it.”

“I thought Yoda couldn’t see the future,” Rey says suspiciously.

“He can see...possibilities,” Anakin regards Yoda, “am I explaining that right?”

“It cannot be explained, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says off to the side.

Anakin smiles wanly. “I’m very sorry. This is a lot, I know. You have to just...take our word on it. Finding Xizor now will lead to more bloodshed. Okay?”

“They won’t like it,” Rey warns, “but I’ll tell them everything.”

Anakin sighs in relief. “Okay. Thank you, Rey. Yoda will bring you back.”

The small green man trudges forward, leaning heavily on his cane. He offers Rey a curt nod and places his three-pronged hand on her forehead.

-

Rey gasps when her mental and physical bodies align. As her hands register soft material, her eyes fly open.

Her surroundings changed. She is on a bed. She is inside the medbay.

And there is a crowd of beings around her.

“Rey!” A broken voice that is definitely Finn’s breaks forward and kneels at her bedside.

Rey breathes laboriously and regains her faculties as she focuses on her brother. His brown eyes are wild, his body shaking with nerves.

“Rey,” Finn exhales in concern, “are you okay?”

Rey sinks into the mattress as Dad and Papa crouch by the opposite side of the bed. Like Finn, Dad and Papa are just as, if not more, terrified about Rey’s comatose state.

Dad takes Rey’s hand, and she squeezes as Papa helps her sit up against the pillow.

“Oh, honey,” Dad’s blue eyes dash across her expression frantically, “what happened?”

Rey purses her lips as her worried Papa asks the same question in their familial bond. 

Unable to look at them, she registers the crowd at the foot of her bed. Kanan uses a cane to hold himself upright, reminding Rey too much of a weary Yoda. Hera and Jacen stand on each side to help him, Ahsoka and Leia hovering near the doorway. Rey eyes Poe hiding in the corner, who holds up his hand in a shy greeting.

In any other circumstance, Rey would have smiled, elated to see her kind-hearted cousin, but she merely sends him a blank stare.

Rey stares at the scratchy medbay blanket covering her loosely, and she clears her throat.

“Close the door,” she says, “I have a lot to tell you.”

Ahsoka and Leia comply with the request, crossing the threshold into the room. The others just stare, their minds slower to understand. 

Rey waits as a semicircle is formed around the bed.

As they prompt her with a pointed silence, Rey opens her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiwano melons have a bright orange outer shell covered in spikes. Since orange is basically the Star Wars fandom color for LGBTQ+ folks, the spikes symbolize Poe’s struggle with accepting his sexuality. At this point, he’s eighteen and a hopeless romantic with zero relationship experience. He is scared to take that final step (and he won’t for a very long time) because of his responsibilities coming before everything else. Jacen mentioning Poe’s attractiveness on an objective level throws him off guard because he hasn’t accepted his preferences yet.
> 
> I completely made all of this up because creating symbolism is fun for me. It was just so humorous to me that the creators of Star Wars found the craziest-looking fruits they could track down to put in the fruit bowl from AOTC.


	8. Age 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the tangible market crowds return to Rey’s awareness, a flash of black armor roots her to her spot on the sand.
> 
> Jacen takes one step in front of her before furrowing his brows. He stops, Rey smashing into his front.
> 
> “Rey?” Jacen prompts. “What’s up?”
> 
> Rey stares at the direction where the armored man went. Her heart stills, then pounds twice as fast. Blood rushes to her head as her ears garble with chatter. She blinks, exhaling out of her mouth.
> 
> She pushes Jacen aside and sprints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m taking a mental health break from writing for about a month, but I’ll still check my Tumblr: @toomanyfandoms99-ao3.

Ahsoka Tano crouches on a rooftop, binoculars focused on the penthouse window of a hotel across the street. She has been tracking Xizor for weeks, and all the Falleen does is travel from planet to planet managing his criminal empire. 

The closest she was able to get to him was at a charity event where Ahsoka posed as Luke’s personal assistant. It is a cover she kept up without Luke’s knowledge whenever she needed to enter the political realm unnoticed.

Xizor was the guest of honor at the event, and Ahsoka assumed it was due to a mixture of bribes and firepower to threaten the Florrum government.

When Ahsoka entered the event, she eyed him discreetly. Since she had no idea what his level of Force sensitivity was in this body, she cloaked herself so far into the Light that she was burning in it.

If it weren’t for Xizor’s reputation, she would not have given him a second glance. She watched him greet investors and known criminals with a false smile. His harsh eyes tell Ahsoka of his true intentions.

After listening through speeches, Xizor sneaks out the back door. Ahsoka follows him into a service hallway.

He murmurs to men in black armor. She recognizes the symbol of a circle surrounded by spikes on their chest plates.

The Black Sun.

After she slipped out of the event, Ahsoka commed Home One and the Temple to confirm Xizor’s sloppy ties with the criminal organization.

Weeks later, Ahsoka is watching Xizor from his penthouse across the street. He has been on an encrypted commlink for an hour. Ahsoka’s attempts to trace the calls are failures.

Suddenly, an armed man enters his room.

Ahsoka twists her binocular lens to get a good look at a red symbol on his chest plate. It is of a red star encapsulated in a black hexagon.

Ahsoka procures her holo recorder and snaps a holo of the symbol.

Whatever she has found must be important.

Satisfied, Ahsoka leaves the rooftop and sends the holo to Home One and the Temple.

Someone has to know what it means.

-

That night, when Ahsoka is meditating in her room, the commlink chimes.

Ahsoka brings the microphone to her lips and switches it on. “Do we have a hit?”

To her surprise, Ezra answers in a breathy voice. “Finn knows what the symbol means. He was practically shaking when he told us.”

“Finn?!”

“Finn,” Ezra says, his voice full of nerves, “yeah, he said that the symbol is...well...it’s the First Order.”

Ahsoka’s heart seizes. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Ezra chuckles nervously, sounding more like Luke than himself, “yeah, this is bad. This is so bad. And Rey confirmed it.”

“Rey?!” Ahsoka becomes more perplexed by the second. “How would Rey know anything about the First Order?”

“Um,” there is shuffling, indicating that Ezra is pacing, “I guess we never told you the full story of how we got Finn, huh? How Rey saved Finn?”

“I…” Ahsoka thought back to the scene Rey made when she, Jacen, Poe, and Shira returned in a stolen landspeeder with Finn. “I guess I just,” she says guiltily, “decided I wouldn’t ask. I-I thought it might be too painful, or maybe it didn’t...matter that much?” Ahsoka sighs. “I mean...we get new students at the Temple every couple months, you know? It’s not that I’m being insensitive, it’s just keeping track of all of their backstories is really exhausting and sad and Jedi are supposed to be about the present not the past so I don’t want to bring up any childhood trauma because I learned with you that kids need to grow without thinking about it, you know?”

Ezra starts to laugh, and she can feel it melting away his worry.

“Oh wow,” Ezra says, “you really word vomited, huh?” He chuckles. “It’s fine. You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Auntie ‘Soka. I totally get it.” He snorts. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak uninterrupted for that long in...kriff...maybe my entire life? Yeah. My entire life. Kriff. I wish Luke heard that.”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes. “Okay, shut up. I’m glad I amuse you. Now what was it that Rey knew about the First Order?”

Ezra’s mirth evaporates. “She, uh...there was a bounty hunter that tried to grab Finn. Since a lot of them wear black armor, we didn’t think much of it at the time. But when...when Finn had the reaction that he did, Rey thought back and...the guy wore a red symbol just like the one you sent over. So as suspected, they’ve been around for a while. Far too long.”

Ahsoka swears under her breath. “Do you know what this means, Ezra?”

“What?”

“The Black Sun is the First Order,” Ahsoka concludes.

Ezra says nothing for a moment. There is a swish of static.

He says, “we have to mobilize sooner than we planned.”

“Yes,” Ahsoka uncrosses her legs and rises, “I’ll be back at the Temple tomorrow.”

“What about Xizor?”

“We have to cut him loose,” Ahsoka says, “and besides, he’s a public figure. He’ll be around.”

Ezra sighs in disappointment. “I don’t like the idea of leaving him to his own devices.”

“I know you’re afraid for Rey,” Ahsoka walks to her travel bag and plops it on the bed, “but I think she can take care of herself. She’s stronger and more independent than you think.”

“I know how strong she is,” Ezra says, “it’s just hard to accept that she’s…”

“Growing up?” Ahsoka emits a two-tone bark of a laugh. “As a childless unmarried Togruta woman, let me give you some advice: Rey is going to be a young woman very soon, sooner than any of us will realize. When that time comes, you have to let her go. Limiting her progress will only make it worse.”

Ahsoka shoves clothes into her open bag as Ezra’s end of the comm hits static.

“I hear you,” he admits, “I do.” He sighs. “So you’ll be back tomorrow?”

“I can be.”

“Alright,” Ezra says, “we’ll keep tabs on Xizor from afar, I guess.” He shuffles in whatever room he sequestered himself inside. “Luke and Finn have been cooped up together for a while. I might need to check on them soon.”

“Okay,” Ahsoka frowns, “bye.”

“Bye.”

The commlink is cut off. Ahsoka zips up her travel bag and formulates a plan.

————

As Finn replays the memories of the armored bounty hunter chasing him in his mind, he feels the walls closing in on him.

For years, he put the past behind him, as the Jedi taught him. For years, he forgot about the bounty hunters entirely. He has flashes in the middle of the day upon realizing with a jolt that he hadn’t thought about those bounty hunters in weeks, months, years.

It was so easy to forget at the Temple. While toying between the past and present is frowned upon, Finn is stuck. He feels stuck, enclosed in a small room, losing the ability to breathe as the room narrows, traps him in a cage with only a tiny space to fit his skinny body amongst the noise in his crowded brain.

Those bounty hunters murdered his parents. All they did was write. All they did was discover what was happening underneath the Republic’s noses. They meant to bring light to the criminal empire, but they were snuffed out before anyone but their young son knew about it.

That is something Finn wonders about, too. Did his parents speak about this to him because they didn’t think it mattered if he heard? Because they thought he was just a child, and he wouldn’t listen? 

Or did they converse about their work for the sole reason that, if something bad happened to them, their son would grow up to bring justice to the men that destroy them?

What is clear to Finn is that the responsibility, whether intentional or not, is his to shoulder. He has to find justice for his parents. He has to get those men arrested and imprisoned before they vanish forever.

And if he couldn’t carry out justice, he had to make some form of peace with the fact that he couldn’t.

It didn’t help the claustrophobia by simply being reminded of the First Order, of the burgeoning organization that ruined his life, of the regime that would soon eclipse the galaxy with its power.

Luke, who has been sitting beside Finn on the floor for several minutes, remains blissfully silent and patient. Since Finn is balled up with his back against the wall, Luke does not place a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

Somehow, Luke understands without any verbal words or mental pleas exchanged between them.

Ezra is the same way with him. When Finn was integrated into the Temple, Ezra was the one who listened if Finn wanted to talk. And even for that first month, when Finn primarily communicated via whisper, Ezra smiled at him like he understood exactly what Finn was going through. That prompted Finn to branch out and sit by Ezra.

And one day, when Finn asked, Ezra answered.

‘When I was seven years old,’ Ezra said softly, ‘my parents died too. They were...they were like your parents. They spoke out, and they were executed.’

Finn blinked, familiarizing himself with the kinship he has with no one else. ‘How do you,’ he ducks his head, lowering his voice shyly, ‘how do you feel better about it?’

‘Cope, you mean?’ Ezra offers him a wan smile, his copper face containing so much Light that it hurts to stare. ‘It was hard, and it’s going to be hard for a while. What got me through it was my new family. My adopted parents.’ He flushes. ‘Luke.’

‘Oh,’ Finn parroted, receiving an influx of mixed emotions from Ezra.

Ezra’s eyes flash, as if understanding their growing connection, and his smile widens.

‘One day,’ Ezra murmured, ‘you’re going to wake up, and it isn’t going to hurt anymore. You’ll think only of the good things, Finn. Only the good things.’

Now that Finn recalls the statement, he doesn’t want to wake up and forget. He doesn’t want to wake up without remembering what happened to his parents. He wants to wake up every day reminding himself that he needs justice to be served.

Finn picks up his head, eyes prickling as the absence of darkness fills with lamplights. The First Order symbol burns in a maroon and black seventeen-pointed star, complimenting the retina veins behind his eyelids.

He peeks over and finds Luke a breath apart, clad in an airy blue tunic with wildflowers embroidered into the sleek fabric. Luke stares forward, but his eyes dart towards Finn before glancing away again. 

Luke’s mouth twitches upwards. It opens a floodgate inside Finn.

He is loved here. Why is he so angry? Why is he so vehement on seeking vengeance? Why, against all odds, can’t he find his peace right here, in this room, in Luke’s boundless kindness and Ezra’s excess affection and Rey’s steadfast faith in him? In Leia’s proud smirk and Ahsoka’s warm advice and Kanan’s abstract wisdom? In Jacen’s comedic remarks and Shira’s gentle ribbing and Ben’s fiery quips?

Why is he focusing on what he no longer has, and not focusing on the family that has manifested itself amidst the rubble of his mind, cleared away the trash, and cultivated a garden?

Finn uncoils himself, the back of his head resting against the wall. He stares into the depths of a bronze lamplight. The First Order symbol burns.

Like Luke, Finn has to be patient.

He asks, “what happens now?”

Luke shifts, steely blue gaze meeting golden brown. “We find them. They will lead us to answers.”

Finn inhales deeply, then exhales through his wide nose. He would have to prepare himself for a reckoning. While his mind is ready, the amount of unstable variables is worrisome.

“How do you feel about that?” Luke asks lightly.

Finn turns to face him. “I’ll be okay.”

“I believe you.”

The double doors are pushed open. Rey is on the other end of them dressed in white.

She says, “I found him.”

————

Rey is constantly being watched over by Jacen whenever she walks around the Lothal markets. She insists that she can care for herself, what with puberty happening and transitioning into a young woman and all that, but Dad and Papa force Jacen to go with her.

‘We promise,’ Dad said, ‘that we’ll let you go on your own in a year or so. We want you to be prepared enough to defend yourself.’

Rey pouted despite the sound logic. She has been using a harmless training lightsaber for a while now, but she has to admit: she was not comfortable wielding a weapon yet.

Rey lets go of her petulance in favor of acting her age. She is growing up. She is growing tall; she will surpass her parents’ heights. Her hair is to the middle of her back and her cheekbones are sharpening. She is training harder and becoming athletic in shape.

And even though she grows at an alarming rate, she is stuck wandering the markets with Jacen.

He doesn’t want to be there with her. He’s nineteen, an adult with his own life, which apparently includes flirting with any being that expresses interest in him.

Jacen sweeps his gaze across the markets as Rey browses the stalls. She stays in the middle lane so as not to block customers.

He offers a smile to a young woman who passes with her friends. The pack giggles, and he schools his expression upon glancing over at Rey.

Rey continues her leisurely stroll, an odd shimmering quality appearing amongst the throng. As figures come into focus, she registers a smuggler-esque man, a green-skinned Twi’lek decked out in riot gear, a pink-haired woman in graffitied armor, a purple-striped furry man carrying a blaster rifle, and a teenage boy in Rebel orange with a lightsaber staff.

As she gasps, the glimmering Ghost crew is assaulted by a barrage of blaster fire. A battlefield merges amongst the market crowds, a sweeping war zone where Rey winces as a stormtrooper with a jetpack zips around her head. Blaster bolts fly through her form as if she is the invisible one, but they are buffeted back by the lightsaber staff.

Papa’s face is fierce as he battles with the Ghost crew around him, the dual scars on his cheekbone dark and fresh. His precision and determination to win the fight bolsters the rest of the group.

This can only be a vision of the Great Lothal Siege. Rey read about it in her history studies, but she had no idea that her own Papa led the charge.

Before Rey can verbalize what she sees, the battle flows into particles.

As the tangible market crowds return to Rey’s awareness, a flash of black armor roots her to her spot on the sand.

Jacen takes one step in front of her before furrowing his brows. He stops, Rey smashing into his front.

“Rey?” Jacen prompts. “What’s up?”

Rey stares at the direction where the armored man went. Her heart stills, then pounds twice as fast. Blood rushes to her head as her ears garble with chatter. She blinks, exhaling out of her mouth.

She pushes Jacen aside and sprints.

“REY!” Jacen barks.

She snakes past customers as the world blurs around her. Her instincts prevent her from losing balance and crashing into anyone.

The stalls that the armored man snuck between lead to a series of houses and alleyways. Rey skids to a stop.

“Rey!” Jacen has caught up with her, his expression flaring up with indignation. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She shoots him a fiery look and stomps between the stalls. She strides into the alleyway and amplifies her senses to search for the armored man.

There is a forked path, and Rey pauses. Jacen comes behind her to grab her shoulder, clamping her in place.

“Rey!” Jacen huffs and shakes his head. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t just run off!”

Rey tilts her head up. She is only level with Jacen’s chest, but her scorching eyes causes him to backpedal.

“The bounty hunter that tried to kidnap Finn is here,” Rey emphasizes, “comm somebody.”

“What?!”

Rey leans against a wall and peeks over the left path. He is there, disguised in shadow, speaking with a man near the back door of a restaurant.

Rey nudges her head to the left. Jacen frowns with crossed arms, then peeks over.

His skin pales.

“Shit,” he hisses, pressing his back against the same wall as Rey, “okay. Okay. Wow. Okay.”

He exhales slowly so he doesn’t panic.

“Okay,” Jacen says curtly, “which one of the Five Jedi Masters would be the least angry with us?”

Rey’s instant answer is, “Dad.”

“Luke,” Jacen procures the commlink from his brown robes, “I can see that. Ezra can get really angry sometimes. Good one. Alright.”

Jacen fumbles with the wires and codes in order to patch them through to Luke. He finally brings the microphone to his mouth and switches it on.

“Uncle Luke?” Jacen says weakly. “Are you there?”

There is static as the connection does not complete. After a couple seconds, Dad speaks into their minds instead.

‘Jacen?’ He asks.

‘Yeahhhhh,’ Jacen smiles awkwardly as he mentally replies, ‘are you alone?’

Dad pauses for a long moment. ‘I’m with Finn, why?’

Jacen hesitates. ‘Okay, so...uh...Rey found the guy that was after Finn.’

Rey could feel her Dad’s rush of worry through their familial bond.

‘Did he see you?’ Dad asks frantically. ‘Are you safe?’

‘See us? No,’ Jacen’s mind says with a note of shyness. ‘As for being safe? Uh,’ his green-tinted skin flushes, ‘I-I don’t know.’

‘Okay,’ Dad decides, ‘I’m projecting myself. Wait a minute.’

Jacen speaks aloud again. “He’s going to do what now?”

Rey smiles. “Do you really think they taught you everything?”

“What…” Jacen blinks. “What’s projection mean?”

“Oh,” Rey winks, “maybe if you weren’t so busy running away from the Temple, you would know.”

Jacen’s mouth falls open as he balks. “How...how dare-”

“No wonder you two don’t hang around each other,” Dad snorts.

Jacen leaps out of his skin and crashes against the wall. His eyes fly open as Rey beams at the holo-esque projection of her Dad.

“What the,” Jacen breathes heavily as he gapes, “what in the actual fuck is happening in front of me right now?!”

“It’s a Force projection,” Rey rolls her eyes, “Dad can use his mind to create a physical form even though he’s inside the Temple. So can your Dad. And also Ahsoka.” She adds with narrowed eyes, “how do you think he used to communicate with us when he was doing ambassador work?”

“Yoooo,” Jacen steps forward to study Dad’s appearance, which looks solid unless someone touches him, “I need to learn how to do that. That’s bizarre, dude!”

Dad crosses his arms, the closest to strict he ever gets as he says, “which direction did he go?”

Rey nudges her head to the left around the corner.

Dad peers over the corner and reports, “he’s still there. You two need to get back home. I’m going to track him.”

“How?” Jacen blurts.

Dad points to his temple.

“What?!” Jacen stares in awe. “You can track him with your mind while doing other stuff?!”

“If I’m careful,” Dad replies, “yes, I can. Now go.”

Sensing the urgency, Jacen grasps Rey’s hand. He tries to lead her forward, but he goes the wrong way. Rey halts and tugs him in a different direction. Jacen huffs and follows Rey to the public landspeeders.

-

When Rey bursts through the meditation room doors, having been following her link to Dad, she notices Finn crumpled against the wall beside Dad.

She directs her words to Finn: “I found him.”

Finn understands, brown eyes blown wide as he stands shakily. “Where?”

“The markets,” Rey says as Dad stands with effort due to mental strain, “about the same place where we tracked you.”

Rey and Finn face Dad as the authority in the room.

“You can both go with Ahsoka and Papa,” he holds up a finger as they jump in excitement, their squeals dying half-formed, “if you don’t do anything to jeopardize them. You’re there to keep watch. Understand?”

“Yes,” Rey and Finn say in unison.

Delight and hope reach Finn’s entire being as he directs a smile to Rey. Neither had gone on official Jedi business before.

“Now find them and tell them,” Dad says weakly, “I have to concentrate.”

Finn frowns in confusion, but Rey sends him a ‘don’t ask’ look. Instead, the siblings rush for Papa and Ahsoka.

-

As the public landspeeder eases into a stop, Ahsoka glances pointedly over her shoulder.

“Watch the markets,” she orders, “and only the markets. Your Papa and I can handle it.”

Rey and Finn bob their heads.

Ahsoka cuts the engine and shares a glance with Papa. Rey cannot discern what it means before they are exiting the landspeeder, doors clicking open and boots crunching deformed grass. It is late afternoon, so pockets of sunset shadows fall upon the markets. The stalls would be closing before dark, and Rey figures there is about an hour of sunlight left.

Rey and Finn trail behind Ahsoka and Papa. Ahsoka’s dual lightsabers are concealed in a gray cloak while Papa’s are hidden in the curve of his back. Papa had chosen not to wear thick Jedi robes, opting for smuggler clothes to blend in.

They walk down the alleyway and sense that Dad has moved. They follow him through their separate Force bonds and locate him by the residential area.

Papa rushes to Dad, catching sight of him first. He closes the distance in silent Loth-cat-esque bounds. When Rey squints beneath a ray of piercing sunlight, she sees Dad slouching against the wall. Dad sends Papa a wobbly smile, betraying his profound tiredness. 

Papa is instantly in his personal space, his hand framing Dad’s holographic cheek tenderly. “You did so good, darling. So good. I warmed a pot of tea for you in our room.”

“Mmm,” Dad mumbles as he fades, “love you.”

“Love you too,” Papa murmurs.

Dad is gone with the air. Papa sighs in concern, but turns around as Ahsoka snickers.

“How could you both still be so gross?” Ahsoka rolls her eyes. “It’s been decades!”

Papa winks. “Sure doesn’t feel like it.”

Ahsoka tips her head up and makes a noise. “Why did I say anything?” She stares at the sky. “I can’t purge that image from my mind, thanks.”

Rey and Finn are the same amount of perplexed.

Ahsoka clears her throat and levels her head. She looks down an alleyway and reports, “he’s with another guy that looks familiar.”

Rey gasps at a man in head wraps speaking with the armored man, as does Finn.

“It’s both of them,” Rey confirms, the words sounding like sand in her mouth.

Papa and Ahsoka examine the two men over the wall corner. They share another look.

“Alright,” Papa says, “good thing there are two of us.” He sends a serious expression towards Rey and Finn. “Stay back and watch the streets.”

Ahsoka and Papa advance to the bounty hunters speaking in the alleyway. The bounty hunters turn, and there is a terse verbal exchange. The armored man growls through his vocoder. Ahsoka slips out binders, and the bounty hunters unholster their blasters.

Before the blasters are fully unlatched, they fly from the bounty hunters’ belts. Papa holds both blaster rifles in his hands and uses his Force strength to crush the barrels.

Ahsoka ignites both lightsabers and rests one against the throats of both men. Papa takes the binders from Ahsoka’s belt, having dropped the ruined blasters, and prepares to cuff them together.

That’s when Rey senses something else. She tips her head up to the rooftops. Finn inhales sharply, mimicking her.

She does not have time to count how many snipers are above them before they open fire.

Finn yells, his arms thrown protectively over his head.

Rey shoots out her hands, breathing heavily as the blaster bolts stop in midair.

A whoosh alerts Rey to a thrumming force above them. Her head snaps towards Finn. 

His outburst caused an invisible shield to protect them from a second volley of blaster bolts. The sniper shots dissipate upon touching his force field.

“Finn!” Rey laughs in relief as she releases her hold on the wave of bolts. They absorb into the shield, as expected. “Look up!”

Finn opens his eyes slowly and tips his head up. His breath hitches when he sees what his arms are doing, and he laughs.

“Holy kriff!” Finn exclaims.

The thrumming stutters, and Rey looks up. The snipers stopped shooting, but the shield was failing.

“Concentrate!” Rey calls over to Finn.

Finn grits his teeth. He turns up to the sky, and he splays out his palms.

The shield holds, stronger than before.

Rey hears hostile movement in the buildings surrounding them. Doors whoosh open, and she spins to a crouch, facing Finn’s opposite direction.

She does not think, she just feels.

Her arms fly out, palms outwards, as she freezes blaster bolts from doors and windows. She bats them back in a ricochet with the nudge of her head.

Behind and above her, Finn lowers his shield from the rooftops to the windows. Shots sizzle and disappear, Rey sending back any bolts that penetrate the shields.

Eventually, the firing stops. The neighborhood, now full of boisterous civilians shouting from the windows, throw out black helmets. They fly, whistling against the air, and land in the stubby grass, civilians hollering and applauding the Jedi.

Surprised, Rey rises to her feet and lowers her arms. Finn does the same, and he rests against her back with a relieved exhale.

Papa and Ahsoka drag both bounty hunters in their shared binders. Ahsoka sends them a stern look, but her eyes gleam with pride. 

Papa sends the pair an uncontrollable grin, declaring, “those are my kids.” He laughs up at the civilians in the windows and yells, “THOSE ARE MY KIDS!”

Another round of applause deafens them for a moment. Rey receives a good look at the bounty hunters, whose helmets and head wraps are removed. The one with head wraps is covered in facial scarring. 

The one with the black helmet is a clone like Rex.

While Rey absorbs this information, Papa halts the bounty hunter near Finn, who tilts his head to the side.

Papa asks coolly, “is there something you would like to do to him?”

Finn instantly shakes his head and replies, “seeing his face is enough.”

A moment passes while the bounty hunter scowls at Finn, gaze harsh and stabbing through Finn’s form.

And all Finn does is smile, the action lighting up his face.

Papa tugs the bounty hunter away with the second one, trailing behind Ahsoka, when Rey steps towards Finn.

They lock eyes and laugh.


	9. Age 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the miserable hour of dinner passes and trainees clear away their bowls in the kitchen, a copper-skinned hand touches the side of his bowl before he can pick it up.
> 
> Ben looks up at Uncle Ezra, who bends over the table from Rey’s spot. His shining eyes match a thoughtful frown.
> 
> “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Uncle Ezra murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! I’m in it to finish it!
> 
> Even though my internship hours are increasing for the next month, I should be able to post updates once or twice a week. 
> 
> Three things about this chapter:
> 
> 1\. The puzzle scene is based on my own hobby of framing puzzles once they’re completed. I have 2 Star Wars puzzles that are 1000 pieces framed on the wall!
> 
> 2\. The nature of this twin swap AU changes everything about HanLeia. I genuinely didn’t want to go this route, so I apologize in advance.
> 
> 3\. Forget everything you know about canon!Ben. My AU!Ben is fundamentally different.
> 
> As always, you can talk to me on Tumblr about Skybridger or my fic writing: @toomanyfandoms99-ao3.

Ben Skywalker-Solo is not a happy child. He did not smile when his parents played with him as a toddler. He did not laugh when they made jokes or funny faces. He did not grin when Dad taught him how to drive a landspeeder and he felt the wind on his face for the first time, or when he honed his abilities to fight even though he was two years younger than most kids with a lightsaber.

For him, everything was a task to be completed. It was a chore to make Mom’s eyes glimmer with pride when he did something right. It was a bore to be in this Temple, or chase after Dad whenever he had to leave for smuggling runs, or console Mom when Dad ended his visits steaming from a meaningless fight.

It was hard to maintain his own life, the life that he got no say in building.

Does he like that he can win sparring matches with training lightsabers against older kids? Yes. It is one of the few activities that quiets his mind and lets him focus on a singular goal: survival.

But does he like that he is constantly demeaned for being too rough? No. It makes his mind scream louder until he can concentrate on his breathing exercises.

And it doesn’t help that his parents fight about him all the time.

Dad always cautions Mom about Ben’s rise through the sparring ranks. He said, ‘all you’re doing is stroking his ego.’

And Mom countered scathingly, ‘what Ben needs is to grow.’

Dad is afraid of him. He has the same look in his hazel eyes after Mom silences him. A lingering stare, noticeably looking away from Ben wherever he’s in the room.

Dad is an outsider in their world. Ben could not help but sympathize with the pirate Han Solo.

Overall, though, emotions exhaust Ben. Caring is exhausting. Faking a smile is exhausting. Pretending he’s fine when he isn’t is exhausting.

Even while inside the Temple with strong abilities, Ben is an outsider. He has to mute his abilities and smother his negative emotions so that he doesn’t cause an avalanche.

Ben soaks his spoon in soup, then raises it above the orange liquid. He rests the spoon atop the broth like a boat.

If only he could sail away from this place…

Dinner is a spectacle at the Temple every night. Dozens of trainees of all ages gather around the massive table, the Jedi Masters at the ends. That often meant, in order to be close to Mom, he is stuck at the end of the table.

This time, though, he is joined by the Organa-Bridger clan. Uncle Luke and Uncle Ezra speak to Mom about something that Ben tunes out; his Uncles are too bright to stare at for too long, their wedding rings glinting on the tabletop amongst swishing spoons. Dad is gone again, having accepted a month-long position smuggling packaged food in the mid-rim territories.

Rey and Finn converse amiably. They smile and laugh as if it does not exhaust them.

Ben fills his spoon with soup. He lifts it to his lips and sucks it down. 

It is cold. He does not care. He slurps a couple spoonfuls.

Ben wonders how much of his life he will spend feeling sorry for himself. And he wonders when he can leave the Temple and explore the stars.

He regards the Organa-Bridgers filling his vision. He envies Rey and Finn for their parents. Their parents only argue about silly things like who misplaced a hair tie. Their parents didn’t spend every interaction either hating each other or tolerating the other for Ben’s sake.

He knows his parents loved each other once, he was assured as much from the Jedi Masters, but Ben had no idea how to fix them.

Uncle Luke and Uncle Ezra are the perfect counterparts. From what Ben learned when they arrived to reside permanently at the Temple, they grew up knowing everything about each other. There is nothing to hide, no secrets, no private information to withhold. 

Ben supposes that is why they work so well together. Their unbreakable connection, even without using the Force, is prevalent in simple glances and body language. 

Uncle Luke was raised as a noble royal, but if he didn’t wear gaudy outfits, Ben wouldn’t have known from the way he acted. Uncle Luke was not the spoiled brat that holofilms painted princes out to be; he was there for anyone who needed him. He was a pillar of safety for troublesome trainees who did not want a heavy reprimanding from another Master, opting instead for a gentle warning and a vow to never do it again.

Uncle Ezra has a fraught past. Ben heard from Ahsoka that his parents were executed, and that led to Uncle Ezra running away. Finding Uncle Luke seemed to be Uncle Ezra’s salvation, as he never took his privileges for granted. Uncle Ezra was odd in the way he could coax Loth-wolves to eat from his hand, a display of hard-earned discipline and subtle power, but also kneel in front of a younger Ben and ask him to explain his toy starfighter display.

His uncles are certainly forces of nature. Where Uncle Luke is the sky, Uncle Ezra is the earth. One cannot exist without the other, but the same cannot be said for Ben’s parents.

Leia Skywalker and Han Solo are equal and opposing forces slamming up against each other, gritting their teeth and using all of their strength to knock the other aside so one could win the match. They are the tidal wave crashing against an immovable rock.

Ben studies Rey and Finn. They, too, are like their parents. Counterparts that ebb and flow steadily around each other. Converging river streams that work in harmony whenever their paths align. 

Rey is fire, like Ben. She is the physical. She is the brutal tornado that could tear trees straight from their roots.

Finn is water. He is the mental. He is the lake where fishers row their boats and catch glittering carps.

They have each other, but who does Ben have?

No one.

Ben does not pick his head up for the rest of dinner. Chatter occurs around him, unbothered by Ben’s muted moods.

When the miserable hour of dinner passes and trainees clear away their bowls in the kitchen, a copper-skinned hand touches the side of his bowl before he can pick it up.

Ben looks up at Uncle Ezra, who bends over the table from Rey’s spot. His shining eyes match a thoughtful frown.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Uncle Ezra murmurs.

Ben stands; he has no choice in the matter when one of the Five Jedi Masters wants to speak with him.

Rey glides behind him and plucks his bowl from the tabletop wordlessly. She follows Finn and the rest of the students. The other four Masters disperse to the kitchens as well.

When Ben is left with Uncle Ezra, he says, “follow me.”

Uncle Ezra rounds the table and Ben does the same from his side. Uncle Ezra pushes open the double doors and they enter the empty hallway.

When the doors close with a resounding click, Uncle Ezra lowers himself to Ben’s height. His frown is deep as his eyes express his concern.

“Ben,” Uncle Ezra says, “we’ve noticed that you haven’t been yourself.”

“We?” Ben interrupts, the prompt blurting out before he can exercise better judgment. 

He ducks his head low as an apology, expression downturned so he can study Uncle Ezra’s boots. He’s never been good at taking orders and keeping his mouth shut with authority figures.

“Uh,” Uncle Ezra blinks, “I mean the four of us. Me, Uncle Luke, Rey, Finn. The four of us.”

“Okay,” Ben raises his head to face Uncle Ezra, his tone harshening as he grows defensive, “what’s the problem?”

Uncle Ezra stares. Ben hates it.

“We want you to know,” Uncle Ezra says softly, “that you can come over to see us anytime. You can tell us anything, confide in us. Anything you need, Ben.”

Ben wants to dismiss the offer immediately, but he finds that he doesn’t have the power to voice the words.

Water prickles behind his eyes. He swallows thickly and shakes his head imperceptibly to regain his composure. Thick black hair tickles his sallow cheeks.

He picks his head up, lip wobbling. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Uncle Ezra holds out his arms, “hug?”

Ben snorts and wants to say he’s not a child, but he shuffles forward anyway. Uncle Ezra gives him a light and brief hug.

It does not help much, but that isn’t the point.

Uncle Ezra pats his shoulder and stands up, sending Ben a crooked grin as he opens the double doors again.

On autopilot, Ben follows him through the dining room and into the kitchens, where the rest of the students clean up. He merges into the assembly line.

-

The next night, Ben finds himself standing in front of their door.

The families of the Five, the moniker that Jacen made up years ago, gather in their parents’ rooms in the hours between dinner and sleep. Mom has chosen, as she often did when Dad left her, to spend this time complaining about her life to Ahsoka. That left Ben to either wander around the Temple, speak to one of the few trainees with whom he is on decent terms, or sit in their family room alone.

He’s had a bad day; the older kids wanted a two-on-one duel with Kanan presiding, and he’d been shown up far too quickly. So for once, he doesn’t feel like moping around all night.

Before Ben summons the courage to knock, the door slides open.

Dressed in plum robes, thick raven hair tucked into his hood, Uncle Ezra smiles at him. “Ben,” he greets, “we’re so happy that you’re here. Come in.”

Hesitantly, Ben steps through the threshold. The door slides closed behind him as Uncle Ezra turns towards the family.

They sit companionably at a rectangular table meant for six. A puzzle is scattered on the wooden surface, the box depicting the image of a Nubian field of flowers and a herd of Shaak. Uncle Luke is by Rey and Finn as they work together to build a flower patch.

“Probably not the fun night you were expecting,” Uncle Ezra remarks, “but you might like it.”

Ben purses his lips as Rey and Finn smile over at him.

“Hi Ben!” Rey exclaims, her side braid highlighting the swan-like quality to her neck and sharp caramel cheeks.

“Ever done a puzzle, Ben?” Finn pulls a face, scratching at his buzzcut. “It’s difficult.”

Uncle Luke smiles as Ben advances. Ben catches sight of multiple holos flickering on a decorative mantelpiece, but only has the energy to hone in on a holo of his Uncles as children beside their adoptive parents and a holo of Uncle Ezra with his biological parents. 

At that unwelcome sight, Ben plops across from the trio. Uncle Ezra sits next to him as a ploy to make him feel comfortable, Ben smelling salty minerals that mingled naturally with Uncle Ezra’s earthen aura.

“How does it work?” Ben asks to silence his own mind, surveying the archaic pile of puzzle pieces with no logic to them.

“You look for color patterns where there are gaps,” Uncle Luke explains, blue-gray eyes flashing with an emotion akin to excitement, loose golden hair framing his tan cheeks, “and you try to make the pieces fit together to create the picture.”

“See,” Rey takes a piece and randomly places it beside another one, “these two won’t work because this piece in my hand has a spike on the corner. But if we move it around,” she finds a parallel curve and places the piece in her hand inside the other, “it falls right into place.” She taps it with her fingertips and the two puzzle pieces slot together. “You can also find similar colors and group them together, like Finn is doing.”

“Yeah,” Finn chimes brightly, too brightly, Ben looking at the pink and purple flower mass that Finn is creating, “some of the pieces have hints as to where the next piece will go. Like this one,” he points to an end piece in his grouping, “has half of a flower, so I have to find the other half in one of the unconnected pieces.”

Ben’s eyes are instantly drawn to it. The lone piece by Finn’s arm indeed has half of a purple flower on the curve.

He retracts his arm, reaching out slowly, and points to it. Finn plucks it from underneath his shirt sleeve.

“Oh!” Finn smiles genuinely at Ben. “Thank you!” He plucks the piece and offers it to Ben. “Go ahead. Put the pieces together.”

Ben hesitantly takes the piece from Finn, thumb and forefinger clamping the painted cardboard. Smooth on the top, rough on the bottom. Then, he looks down and places it near the open curve.

The pieces fit perfectly. He hardly has to press them together.

Transfixed, Ben is torn between smiling and crying.

“First puzzle piece,” Uncle Ezra praises, “good job. Would you like to keep going for a little while?”

A lump remaining in his throat, Ben bobs his head in affirmation.

————

A sizable gathering joins Rey at the entrance to the Temple cavern. She will be tested by the Force underneath the grand hall with only her constructed lightsaber hilt and the beige robes on her back.

Dad discovered she was ready when Rey was meditating in the grasslands directly outside the Temple. She went there when her mind was overwhelmed with clashing auras, sitting and diving into her own thoughts. She was careful not to turn invisible as she sifted through her own knowledge, reaching a state of breezy calm, weightless and lighthearted.

It was during this time that she heard the slight wind around her shift, waist-length grass blades pressing and curving across her lap, making a prickly sound against her worn white robes.

Curious, Rey opens the eyes that always close amidst her fleeting moments of peace. A mass of white robes and yellowed grass sharpen as she tilts her head down. 

They come into focus, and Rey sucks in a breath. The grass, normally an unhealthy wheat color, takes on notes of unmistakable green.

And not just any green. The shade of green that indicates wildness and genetic repair, an indescribable bending of nature’s laws, a nature that is complemented by the energy that pulsates about her very soul. 

Her being spills out onto her lap, seeping through her bloodstream and skin and hands and robes and crossed legs as it simmers on the damaged life, its slow and bleeding heartbeat, and sinks into the root of the problem, the grass swaying and growing in increments, the soil rebuilding its nutrients in seconds and reviving itself, the world around her singing at the melody of their powers intertwined.

Rey’s body and ears reverberate at the bare-boned harmony that swirls about her gaze, the dark green grass tickling her bared arms and dancing about her hands, blades whistling between the cracks of her fingers.

As she collects her breath and exhales slowly, gaze sweeping the patch of healthy grass forming a circle around her, the sound of footsteps crunching the nature causes her profile to peek over her shoulder.

Her eyes must be wide and frightened, because Dad drops to a crouch a safe distance away from the new grass patch. His smile is tentative, but his eyes are bright, loose hairs from his bun swaying with the breeze across his chin.

‘Oh,’ Dad’s smile revealed a Papa-esque grin, throwing Rey into a daze, ‘my baby girl. Don’t be afraid. The Force is just saying hello.’

Rey swallowed thickly and took another calming breath. The Force slows its swirl around her form, but it does not retract itself altogether. It remains soft and light, allowing Rey to come to terms with her newfound understanding.

‘Do you know what this means, honey?’ Dad asked, careful and gentle.

Rey unfreezes herself, her limbs working together to spin her around. She tears her gaze from the grass climbing high, clamping onto the life teeming about and dampening its ascent. 

The instruction accepted, the grass halts its growth, settling for its new height and color.

Rey chooses not to think about the startling implications of her command.

Dad says calmly, ‘you are ready, Rey. Ready for the cavern.’

He holds out his hand. His arm crosses into the circle of grass that Rey grew, and Rey looks down at the warm hand. She purses her lips.

‘I know,’ Dad soothes, ‘I know. I was scared too.’

That gets Rey to regard him, the memories flickering behind his eyes. They are the eyes of her precious Dad, the man who was always patient with her and bandaged her wounds and read her fairytales about Dukes loving waiters, about fallen kings loving soldiers, about princes loving bodyguards.

But they are also the eyes of a man who has suffered far too much, whose knowledge and untold secrets are so overwhelming that Rey has hardly scratched the surface. The pain that her Dad feels on a daily basis because of past mistakes is buried, but Rey sensed it. She has been assaulted by strong emotions that threaten to drown her Dad from being cooped up in a confined cage, but the love that smothers it away is the love of her Papa, of Rey and Finn. They ground him, ground his inner madness, and that is when Rey glimpses it.

The memory. The memory of Dad. The memory of Dad in a cave. In a cave only lit by two opposing lightsabers. Lightsabers that threaten Dad, his family, his safety. 

Papa.

Dad screams. He screams. Screams until the cave rocks, the walls and ceiling spitting up dust. Screams until the cave rattles with an impending collapse. A collapse that looms as his body launches itself forward with the power of a thousand suns, the environment pausing and restarting and shaking to his will.

But the shaking, as if pinching on the string of a vibrating lyre, stops.

It is a jarring motion, but the echoing scream dies as quickly as it was formed. Rey is ejected from this memory, Dad’s eyes blinking it away. 

Otherwise, he has not moved. His outstretched arm still awaits her hand, and he is still crouched despite the breeze moving his hair.

He does not know what she just saw.

‘But I’m glad I did it,’ Dad said, continuing their conversation about the cavern. ‘It’s important to learn about yourself and grow.’

Rey’s mind reeled.

Dad’s fingers flex in invitation. ‘Where’d Rey go?’

Rey blinks. She takes the millisecond to calm her thoughts. 

Then, she grasped Dad’s hand and followed him into the Temple.

Now, it is almost time for the cavern. Rey looks down at the metal lightsaber hilt on her belt.

In preparation for this day, Rey was given recycled parts from the Tantive VII and gently instructed by Dad to use the Force to mold them together. Papa left her the vague directions provided by Ahsoka and Obi-Wan Kenobi and murmured that she should take as much time as she needs.

Alone for an afternoon devoid of lessons, Rey studied the diagrams and revised Papa’s double-sided hilt design. Rey started her training by practicing with a single lightsaber and it was difficult to manage the form maneuvers. That led her to the decision to make a lightsaber staff rather than dual lightsabers like Ahsoka or a single lightsaber like Kanan and Leia. Rey had even stolen Papa’s lightsaber hilt once to see if she could handle it better, and it was incredibly easy to fall into the offensive and defensive formations.

When Rey’s hilt was completed at the tail end of dinner, she was proud of her handiwork. Dad has shown her some of his engineering creations, and it seems Rey inherited his gift.

She went to the kitchens where Dad, Papa, and Finn congratulated her and cooked her a giant meal. Finn was fascinated with the lightsaber hilt, Dad beamed at the design, and Papa got choked up that she chose to copy his preferred mode of combat.

Now she stood in front of the cavern with a pack of family and friends behind her, lightsaber hilt clipped to her robes.

“My baby,” Papa sniffles as his eyes glisten, “you’re gonna do so good.”

“Ezra,” Dad rolls his eyes and grasps Papa’s hand, “get it together, please.”

“No,” Papa smiles proudly at Rey, “I refuse.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “It’s fine, Papa.”

Dad stands close to Papa, and they share a look. Papa sniffles again and blinks away his rising tears.

Dad murmurs to Rey, “follow your instincts, honey.”

Finn shoots her a thumbs up. She sends him a grateful smile.

Before she turns around, she directs that same smile to Ben. The younger boy shifts in surprise at the attention, as he prefers to fade into shadow alongside Aunt Leia. 

His dark eyes, blending into his pupils, upturn in hesitation. They linger for a beat.

To Rey’s shock, Ben smiles. Not a fake smile. 

A real one.

After receiving similar glances from the Five Jedi Masters, Rey faces the cavern entrance. Torches light her way, but it is still dark below the ground.

Without looking back, Rey descends the steps. Her double-sided lightsaber hilt swings against her hip, and she shifts her body weight to compensate for her off-kilter balance. 

She follows the torches mounted on the walls until she reaches a level surface. She counts at least two dozen steps to reach the bottom.

The torch lights become sparser, so Rey closes her eyes and concentrates on the Force. She holds out her arm and splays out her fingers.

As if an invisible hand closes around her hand, she is guided forward. Rey breathes shallowly as she follows without missing a bound.

She does not know far she gets when the hand lets go of her, the absence of warmth causing goosebumps to rise. She halts and drops her outstretched arm. She opens her eyes.

A masked man clad in black robes and a helmet decorated with silver around the eye plates stands, breathing heavily, before her. 

He does not twitch a muscle. All she can hear is his breathing, and notes how he did not require the mask to breathe.

The masked man’s vocoder is a blasted bomb, shards trickling through her eardrums, lighting up her pounding heart in a fuse.

“It is your destiny to face me,” the vocoder booms. “You cannot run from me forever.”

Rey pales considerably; a chill causes her to shiver all over. She’s scared, oh, she’s so scared. She doesn’t know this man, but he knows her!

She wants to rush back up the stairs and tell her parents that she saw a vision of the future. That is what this must be! Right?

Or is the Force tricking her? 

It is difficult to tell. All Rey can do is play along. The Force is testing her on how she will react to the situation.

Rey takes a breath to calm her pounding heart. The masked man simply stands, frozen in time, awaiting a response.

Rey says, her voice parched, “I won’t run from you.”

The helmet tilts to the side. The masked man questions her with the motion. He goads her to attack, calling out the uncertainty and wavering fragility to her statement.

Rey swallows a lump in her throat. Her heart won’t stop pounding, no matter how many shallow breaths she takes to calm herself.

“If you won’t talk,” her voice jumps out and rises a full octave, “then I won’t run away from what it is you want.”

The man’s arm moves. His gloves peel back the side of his black robes. A metal lightsaber hilt glints in the torch light.

His hand closes around the hilt and it ignites.

The blade is blazing red, two miniature blades on both sides of the hilt. She has never seen a lightsaber built like that before.

With a zoom, the blade points at her, and the masked man breaks into a run.

Eyes wide, Rey unclips her lightsaber hilt and aims it in a diagonal angle. 

Two blades exploding from both sides of her double-sided hilt thrum, reverberating throughout the cavern walls. She arches her arm upwards, a green blade meeting the red.

Her chest compresses in a shallow breath, and she twists the lightsaber hilt. 

The second blade, as orange as a Lothal sunset, comes up to sear the masked man’s robe. He jumps back, giving Rey enough room to sweep both blades over her body in a circular motion.

Exhaling deeply, she switches to an offensive position. She waits for the masked man to attack.

He does not. His blade collapses in a whoosh.

He clips the lightsaber hilt to his belt. His robe conceals the weapon.

And the masked man fades away as if he were never there at all, the cavern enveloped in flaming silence.

Aware of the thrumming blades tight in her grip, Rey brings the lightsaber hilt to a horizontal angle. Green splits one side of her face, while the other blazes orange.

Rey had theories as to what colors the Force would choose for her, but she was completely wrong.

Staring for a moment at the blades, green symbolizing peace and orange resembling physical strength, she wonders if the combination has been formed before. They are opposing forces, and yet, they are present in the same lightsaber hilt. It defies logic, expectations, and the very fabric of what the Five Jedi Masters believed to be true about complementary colors.

Rey uses the Force to retract the false blades. The torch light flickers as she is in relative darkness. She holds onto her lightsaber hilt tightly.

After a long moment, two white lights solidify into being. They glow near the lightsaber hilt, as if humming to the empty metal device, in answer to a soundless call.

Rey opens her free hand. The dual lights float into her palm, two kyber crystals singing into the Force and awaiting their fate. The crystals are not burning hot as expected.

Rey slides one crystal down her palm. It catches between her forefinger and thumb. She places it in one side of the hilt, binding it into the metal. She turns the lightsaber hilt around, placing the second crystal into the other side.

Turning the lightsaber horizontally again, Rey clasps the middle of the hilt. She barely has to nudge the Force before both kyber crystals blaze on each side of her face again.

Before she can fall too far into her own thoughts, she shuts off the lightsaber. She clips it back on her belt and notices that the path to the cavern entrance is lit by an iridescent line on the ground.

Rey walks on the thick bright line as if on a balance beam, one foot in front of the other. She does not look up until she locates the stairs.

She ascends the stairs, the torch lights flickering with an extra burst of Light radiating from her. They thrive on her aura, dragging fingers over her robes in worship.

Rey reaches the top of the steps. She exits the cavern entrance. Her audience had hardly moved, but their whispered conversation ceases as she returns to full view.

Dad and Papa send her smiles, even though her drawn expression betrays nothing of what occurred in the cavern. Finn and Ben wear expectant faces, as does a peering Jacen, Shira, and the remaining three Jedi Masters.

“Well?” Leia prompts impatiently.

Rey faces the woman; ever since Ben started visiting them, her opinion of Aunt Leia has diminished considerably. Nonetheless, she knew no one is the perfect parent or sibling or friend.

“Well, what?” Rey counters, narrowing her eyes to feign confusion.

That gets Ben to crack a small smile.

“Show us,” Leia says, “it’s tradition.”

“Oh?” Rey plays coy, straightening her posture to match Dad’s serene being. “What if I don’t want you to know until training?”

“Well,” Leia grows suspicious, “then we’ll start to think we won’t like what we see.”

Rey lowers her head. Okay, that hurt a little.

Did they really think-

“Leia,” Dad barks, so unlike him that Rey turns sharply at his blazing blue eyes, “don’t even go there.”

Leia throws up her prosthetic arm in surrender. “Sorry.” Her hand claps back against her purple robes. “Can’t discount anything in this messed-up galaxy, Luke.”

“I think,” Ahsoka smirks, “she wants to play a game.”

Rey chuckles, Aunt Leia’s words evaporating from her mind. “What game would that be?”

“A guessing game,” Ahsoka’s eyes gleam in excitement, “I’ll start. Do you have the same color for both sides?”

Rey shakes her head smugly.

“Split,” Ahsoka grins, “like your parents.”

Rey conceals her surprise. Everyone knows that Papa’s lightsaber is yellow and blue, as he teaches defensive lessons, but no student has ever seen Dad’s lightsaber before. Rey glimpsed it in a vision, but she is unsure of its continued existence. Rey tried searching for it in her parent’s bedroom, but it is well-hidden, cloaked within the Force itself. It required intense meditation and endless peace within oneself to reach the invisible, so only Dad and Ahsoka can breach the inner realm.

Nonetheless, the argument around the Temple gossip chain, also known as one Shira May, is that Dad never owned a lightsaber. Shira’s basis for this is that Dad teaches younger students how to wield the Force without a physical weapon. Rey doesn’t know for sure either way, and asking about it would ruin the fun of not knowing.

But Ahsoka let slip that Dad indeed possesses a lightsaber. Perhaps one like hers and Papa’s, double-sided with two different colors. Or perhaps two different lightsaber hilts where each blade was a color.

Shira barely hides her gasp at the information, and she quakes at the excitement of being able to pass on the gossip around the Temple after this is over.

“Now which colors should we guess?” Ahsoka looks up as if in thought. “Most Jedi either have a blue or green blade. Let’s start there.”

“I’m going with blue,” Jacen plays along, “she’s got skills on the mat. We all know it.”

“No,” Ben says.

Everyone stares at the reserved boy’s voice.

“It’s green,” Ben concludes. “It’s green because you always try to joke around before a sparring match. Right?” He blinks dumbly. “Am I right?”

Rey beams and nods.

Varying hums and comments travel through the group. Finn taps Ben’s shoulder.

“That was a good one, Ben!” Finn compliments. 

Ben is shy when he looks back up. He makes a mumbling noise but does not elaborate further.

“The other one,” Ahsoka hums, “is probably going to be a unique color. But which one?”

“Yellow,” Papa says of his own lightsaber.

“Purple?” Kanan guesses.

“That’s common now,” Leia comments.

Ahsoka snaps her fingers. “I’ve only seen one other Jedi with this color.”

She faces Rey, as if peering into her mind and studying her eyes.

“Orange,” she sounds out.

Rey doubles over laughing, clapping her hands. “How did you know?!” 

She cackles as the crowd erupts in loud gasps and exclamations.

“Okay,” Ahsoka decides, “I need to see this right now.”

The crowd agrees eagerly, and Rey straightens up, unclipping her lightsaber hilt. She turns it horizontally and nudges it with the Force.

Orange and green sing, and everyone exclaims.


	10. Age 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn stares at the lightsaber hilt he constructed, frowning at what lies ahead today. It is only the most important test he will face in his life.
> 
> Even though Finn began his education two years behind everyone else his age, he worked harder than ever to catch up. It is time for him to face what Rey had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Welcome to the halfway point!
> 
> 2\. The circles are very important.
> 
> 3\. Rey is ace in this fic.

Finn stares at the lightsaber hilt he constructed, frowning at what lies ahead today. It is only the most important test he will face in his life.

Even though Finn began his education two years behind everyone else his age, he worked harder than ever to catch up. It is time for him to face what Rey had.

Whenever someone asked Rey what she saw, she remained mum. All she offered was that an unknown Darksider taunted her. When Luke or Ezra asked for details, she shrugged and said he had a black-silver helmet. 

Luke and Ezra tried to gauge if Rey saw into the future, but the Force and its mysteries were impossible to untangle. Ezra was still trying his best to ensure occasional memories were put in their proper places in the timeline. As it has been years of Ezra doing the work that no other Jedi in existence could, he rarely elaborated on his encounters with the past unless he deemed it important.

They discovered Finn was ready when he had a dream. A dream that plunged him into a memory, a memory of young Finn plopped in a diner booth beside his mother, his father across the table from them. They laugh together about an unknown joke, and the warmth inside Finn’s chest expands throughout his body and mind, brightening his aura.

The contents of the joke do not matter. What matters is his parents are here, right here, animated and alive. His mother smells of shuuras and meilooruns and home. His father’s smile brings a dose of delirious happiness to Finn’s mind, the edges bright without a slicing sharpness digging into his heart.

There is no pain here. Only peace.

Finn lingers in this infinite moment, this gemstone of a memory, for as long as he can. 

The sound of his name, spoken concernedly, filters into the scene. Slowly, Finn swims upwards, up and up until his senses and bodily functions return.

He breaks the surface of the reflective pool, and he opens his eyes.

His name is spoken again, Finn’s gaze focusing on the blank ceiling. When his fingers twitch, he realizes there is nothing below him.

Nothing below him.

Finn’s eyes widen upon registration, and his name is repeated a third time.

He turns his profile to the side, and Ezra is there, contemplative and reserved.

When Finn looks lower, he realizes he is floating.

Swallowing thickly, Finn closes his eyes. His heart thumps, but he lowers himself. 

The sheets and solid mattress greet him.

Opening his eyes again, Finn is told by Ezra that he is ready. Finn is swept up in preparations, and he is soon being given lightsaber instructions.

Due to Finn’s slow methodical way of working, he built sections of his lightsaber hilt over an entire week. He missed lessons and lightsaber training for days while he chose what kind of design he wanted for his hilt. He decided to go with a single lightsaber because he didn’t predict he would do much fighting. He could hold his own, but he would leave the battles to someone more capable.

He matched the design so it was similar to Kanan’s, a simple mode for basic functionality. Finn used Tantive VII parts to weld the lightsaber hilt together. He chose sleekness to help with his grip, adding extra protection for the kyber crystal.

When he let his family see the lightsaber hilt after its completion, they were flummoxed.

‘I didn’t think you would choose a single,’ Ezra says, flipping the hilt around between his fingers to examine it. That was the same motion he used for defense with his double-sided lightsaber staff; Finn never noticed that before. ‘And build something that looks like my Master’s lightsaber.’ Ezra hums. ‘Kanan will be very flattered.’

‘And shove it in our faces until the end of time,’ Luke points out.

In a shocking hand maneuver, wherein Luke drags his bejeweled fingers across Ezra’s to coax them open, Luke snatches the lightsaber hilt in the flip of his palm. His hands close around the lightsaber and he studies it for a moment.

‘This is a sturdy build,’ Luke comments, ‘well done.’

‘Yeah,’ Rey beams at Finn, ‘worth the wait.’

Now that Finn waits to be taken to the Temple cavern, he realizes how unsure he is at what’s going to happen. He was told he would receive a vision, that his choice would dictate what occurs and what kind of Jedi he’s going to be for the rest of his life. It’s a lot to think about, a lot that will cripple his state of mind if he lets it.

The door to his room opens. He turns from his ottoman at the vanity.

It is Rey.

They had grown so much over the past year. He watched Rey become comfortable with her wide-ranging abilities, master lightsaber techniques and tackle every challenge that the Five Jedi Masters saw fit to throw in her path. Rey could scale the Temple with no issues while pouring rain soaks her bones, counter Ahsoka’s every maneuver on the mat, and heal the very grasslands that had lain dormant for years. She could even levitate her body in the air while making every starship docked in the area float above the ground without a single gear suffering a scratch. Her steady advancement was admirable to the younger trainees, who pointed to Rey when asked about role models.

And Rey has become who she was meant to. Her cheekbones are sharp like her highborn royal descendants. Her caramel skin and Loth-cat blue eyes remind him that she is a luminous being, a term that Kanan said when assuring them of their specialness in the Force. Her athletic form is meant for a warrior, which Finn fears they will have to become in an uncertain future.

Rey smiles kindly. “Are you ready to get out of your funk and go to the cavern?”

Finn grasps the lightsaber hilt on the vanity and rises from the ottoman. “Yes, thank you.”

Rey allows Finn to exit the room. He clips his lightsaber on the belt below his black shirt. Rey keys the door closed behind her and leads him through the Temple.

“It’s going to be fine, Finn,” Rey says, “you don’t have to worry as much as Dad does on a daily basis.”

“I happen to like that Luke worries,” Finn remarks as they pass through hallways, “it shows that he cares deeply.”

“Are you saying that you also care deeply?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“It is. Your sensitivity causes the girls to swoon.”

“Psh. Yeah right.”

“No,” Rey stops them, her eyes beseeching him as she tilts her head down, “I’m completely serious.”

Finn furrows his brows and frowns up at her. “That can’t be right. It’s not like I’m even-”

“Trying?” Rey winks, her earmuff buns bouncing as she guides them forward again. “That’s the allure. That you’re not...teasing them or flirting with them or being anything other than yourself.” 

She takes them to the grand hall, which is oddly devoid of meandering students. Her voice echoes in the massive open space populated by domesticated Loth-wolves and Loth-cats. Their heads raise and ears twitch at Rey’s ever-bright presence. Rey ignores them for Finn’s sake.

“They like that you don’t go out of your way to be kind to somebody,” Rey continues easily, “or wear a mask just to get them to talk to you. So many girls have asked me about you that I thought I would finally bring it up.”

“Uh,” Finn says, utterly mystified, “and what is it that you want to bring up?”

Rey snorts in amusement as they walk through the dining room. “Do you like anyone, Finn? You know,” she nudges his arm so he loses a half-step, “romantically?”

Finn blinks, overwhelmed and lost at the prospect. So many questions rise up from his chest, but they die at his throat. 

“I,” he swallows to moisten a suddenly dry mouth, “I honestly haven’t...thought about it? Like...at all?”

Rey turns as they get closer to the secret door in the wall that leads to the cavern. She leans against the massive archway in the adjacent hallway.

“Really?” Rey squints. “Never?”

“No,” Finn shakes his head for emphasis, “we’ve never...talked about anything like this before, have we?”

Rey shakes her head in affirmation, frowning as an afterthought. “I guess you’re right,” she glances down at the floor, “it’s weird that I’m bringing it up. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind. What about you?”

“What?”

“What about you? Are you interested in any,” Finn does a little dance by sweeping his legs across the floor in a sideways motion, “beings within the walls of this ancient Temple?”

“Gross,” Rey wrinkles her nose, “that dance was gross.”

“Are you, though?” Finn’s brows climb in curiosity that he cannot hide.

“No,” Rey replies, “definitely not. I’ve never even...felt that way about anybody. I don’t think I will, really.”

Against Finn’s belief that Rey would slouch at her tone, she smiles instead.

“But that’s okay,” Rey says breezily, “I think it’s better, actually.”

“Well,” Finn says, “you might be right. But I don’t know.”

Rey leans away from the archway and spins around. Finn falls into step with her as they descend a hallway.

“The races,” Rey parses, “when we watch the races, I notice that you have these...little reactions. What are those?”

Finn’s cheeks burn.

“Nothing,” Finn blurts before falling suspiciously silent.

As they round the corner to the hidden cavern passageway, Rey whirls around and holds out her palm. It presses against his chest, and he steps back, ducking his head.

It is all Rey needs to understand.

As her head tips back, she whispers, “ooohhhhhh, okay. I get it.” She grins down at him. “You have a thing for pilots.” She winks, causing Finn to stammer. “I really shouldn’t be all that surprised, since piloting runs in the family and everything. That’s adorable!”

“Okay,” Finn side-steps, “I’m going into this cave now. You’re done. We’re done.”

“I’m sorryyyy,” Rey stomps after Finn, “I’m sorry. It’s something that’s been on my mind, that’s all. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good,” Finn says, relief entering his tone, “thank you.”

“Of course,” Rey stops Finn once more, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed.”

Finn sighs at her giant eyes expressing remorse. “It’s okay.”

Rey brightens. “They’re waiting behind the door. You go in first.”

They had reached the secret door. Finn notes the indentations.

He faces the door, presses both of his palms against the wall, and opens it on one side. He steps back to regain balance and enters, followed by Rey closing it.

As his eyes register the darkness and artificial lights in the main chamber, the room breaks out into applause.

Finn bristles as the entire contents of the Temple clap for him enthusiastically. Frozen, he stares dumbly as his eyes search for a prideful Luke and Ezra.

Rey laughs from behind him and prances until she is beside Luke and Ezra. Finn’s adoptive parents are the most boisterous, and he wears an embarrassed smile.

The applause breaks up, and it is Leia that steps forward to speak.

“Finn Organa-Bridger,” Leia projects, “are you ready to enter the cavern?”

There is silence.

And Finn wonders why in the stars he was apprehensive of this test in the first place.

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yeah,” Jacen hypes, cupping his hands over his mouth to create an echo, “you bet he’s ready!”

Finn laughs, his nerves set at ease. “Thanks for that, Jace.”

Jacen holds out an arm. Finn snorts and bumps his fist as he walks by.

“Yeah, man!” Jacen says. “You got it.”

Finn receives a rare nod from Ben in support as well. Luke and Ezra send him wide smiles as he passes them.

The cavern entrance looms, but Finn simply waves. Luke, Ezra, and Rey wave back.

He turns and descends the stairs. Torches light his way down, and he is soon encompassed in near-darkness.

A blue light, a humming lightsaber, ignites a being. It is him.

But it is not him.

Other Finn steps closer, an older mirror image. With a pounding heart, Finn regards this version of him.

Other Finn is taller, more muscular. There is a harshness to his eyes that indicates he’s had his fair share of bad experiences.

Finn does not want to feel what this man does. Not a fraction, not a drop. He does not want to experience what Other Finn has in his life.

Finn observes the blue lightsaber warily. It does not look right to him. If anything, he guessed that his blade would be green.

“Hm,” Other Finn looks down at him, “I didn’t think I was ever this small.”

Finn furrows his brows. “You’re not me. You can’t be me.”

“Oh, is that right? And how can you be so sure about that?”

“I know myself,” Finn says, “I know that I’m not a warrior at heart.”

Other Finn holds the blue lightsaber between them. He is wary with the blade.

“You’re right,” he sighs, “we aren’t the same Finn.”

“S-Same Finn? We’re not from the same place?” Finn balks openly.

Other Finn hums like this does not bother him, like he has heard of this possibility before. “I had to become a warrior when I was young,” he says wistfully, “after those monsters took me and made me into their weapon.”

Finn wants to exclaim, but his voice comes out hollow. “You come from a galaxy where you were never saved. You became a soldier in the First Order.”

Other Finn’s dark gaze is faraway, glazing over at the words. His voice is no more than an echolocation made by sonar:

“I was reprimanded because they could not get rid of my conscience,” he says, “even though I was young, I was still too old to be shaped by them. I never forgot that they took me from my parents and killed them. I never forgot any of it, but I did not seek vengeance. I just wanted to get out of that place. And finally, finally,” Other Finn smiles, “I found my opportunity when a man offered to save me, help me escape. That man,” his gaze becomes clearer, “that man is the man I fell in love with, the man who makes everything I have gone through worth it.” His eyes glisten. “I hope that you find him someday too.”

Finn steps back in surprise at the information. He finds someone who loves him in war? A man devoted to him?

And oh, he was actively trying to hurt his heart, wasn’t he?

“You don’t know,” Other Finn realizes, “hm. I figured you might have met already.” He shrugs. “Oh well. There’s still time.”

“How much of it?” Finn inquires. “I understand that time is muddled, but what do you know about the Force’s intentions?”

“The Force’s intentions,” Other Finn repeats, “the Force’s intentions?” He shakes his head. “You really aren’t me at all, huh?”

“You’re cynical,” Finn notes, “you don’t believe that the Force has its reasons.”

“Well,” Other Finn scoffs, “if the Force’s intention was to kill millions, I do not care about what else it has to say.”

He brings his lightsaber back to his side in a whoosh. 

“I suppose,” Other Finn concludes, “you will be a far better man than I am. And your Force will reward you for it.”

Abruptly, Other Finn collapses his lightsaber and walks in the opposite direction. The torch lights flicker violently, and Other Finn is gone.

A white light enters the upper part of his vision. Finn looks up.

A floating kyber crystal above his head sinks down and down, past his face and to his arms. 

Finn opens his palm, the crystal resting warmly there. Unclipping his lightsaber with the other hand, he takes a deep breath to prepare himself for the moment he had forgotten about in his spirited debate.

He slides the kyber crystal within the lightsaber hilt, secures it, and holds it diagonally.

With a nudge of the Force, the lightsaber reveals a transparent blade.

Finn examines the blade as if expecting his reflection to be a mirror image inside the glass-esque substance. When it is not, as it glows rather brightly, he shuts off the lightsaber.

“Huh,” he echoes. He’s never heard of a clear blade before.

He clips the lightsaber on his belt again and follows a bright line on the floor. It guides him to the cavern entrance.

He ascends the stairs while his mind reels. A clear lightsaber is so odd that he is unsure how they will react. Finn didn’t even know what possessed him in the cavern. He didn’t have time to think over what he said to the other version of himself until now.

How did he say those things like he knew them for a fact? How did Finn know that the Force was right? That it was good despite the tumultuous world where Other Finn came from? How could he trust in the Force when the older, rational Finn was a cynic?

Maybe the Other Finn didn’t need to trust in the Force. Maybe he just believed in love.

Finn reaches the top of the stairs, and he takes a breath to clear his mind. He approaches the entire Temple as they wait for him, all whispered modes of conversation ending.

Rey jumps forward in her excitement. She is the epitome of sunshine and bathing Loth-cats as she asks, “so? How’d it go?”

Blinking at the pointed silence that an entire crowd should not be able to cause, Finn places his hand on the lightsaber and unclips it.

When the hilt is horizontal in his hand, he uses the Force to turn on the lightsaber.

Gasps resound in the cavern at the clear blade gleaming.

“I don’t know what it means,” Finn focuses on Ahsoka, projecting his voice, “do you know what it means?”

Everyone, even the remaining four Jedi Masters, turns to Ahsoka’s position in the crowd.

Ahsoka glides forward until she is in the center of the semicircle with Finn. She squints when eyeing the lightsaber, circling Finn once over.

When she stops the circle, she says, “it’s not a service blade. Those are pure white.” She turns to regard Luke. “Like one of yours.”

The room cannot conceal their gasps of surprise.

Ezra covers his mouth with his hand as his eyes glitter in amusement.

So he does know about the rumors surrounding Luke’s lightsabers, which no student has ever seen and speculated about as a result.

The room quiets again as Ahsoka analyzes Finn’s lightsaber. “This blade is almost perfectly clear. Like Rey’s orange lightsaber,” she projects, “I only knew one Jedi Master with this color. Someone almost as wise as Yoda.”

There are “ooh’s.”

Finn’s default reaction is to grimace. He’s not that wise. No Jedi Master alive is as wise as Luke Organa.

“He was a man of singular goals,” Ahsoka recounts, “very persistent when given a task. He never gave up. His mind was full of such clarity,” she motions to the lightsaber, “that his lightsaber reflected his very mind.”

Finn shifts on his feet uneasily. He is embarrassed to be the center of attention. Everyone is looking at him like he is some sort of-

No. He won’t think about it.

“His name was Tera Sinube,” Ahsoka reveals, “and I knew him well. You are both very alike. You both have an intense focus on the Light and sought justice when there was none. Your minds are calm and clear, hence the transparent lightsaber.”

Ahsoka breaks the circle she made around Finn and says over her shoulder, “very interesting, Finn. And very important.”

Finn collapses the lightsaber at her dismissal. He clips it back on the belt.

And the chatter returns, several family members congratulating him.

————

Jacen’s blue lightsaber crashes against Rey’s staff. At the force of her blow, he grits his teeth and pushes her back. Her feet backpedal and plant on the mat, her eyes flaming blue.

Jacen hums, brows pinching together as her lightsaber staff swoops in a blazing orange-green circle.

“You’re distracted,” he points out.

Rey does not reply and swipes low. Jacen jumps over the green blade and snorts.

“I guess you’re too in-the-zone to chat right now,” Jacen says airily, “which is weird, because usually you’re all about the jokes.”

Rey scowls and arches the lightsaber staff towards Jacen’s side. He counters each of her fluid moves, which causes her to jump back to breathe. Strands bursting out of her triple buns fall across her sweaty caramel cheeks, sharpening her features.

“Sparring isn’t going to help you,” Jacen says, “so you might as well tell me. It’s only us here.”

Rey’s chest collapses in a massive exhale. “You wouldn’t care.”

Jacen falters. Rey springs forward, and Jacen barely brings up his lightsaber in time to block Rey’s strike. Their lightsabers crash messily, Jacen gripping the hilt so his blue blade doesn’t drop. 

He uses his Force strength to push back Rey. Her shoes skid against the mat and she straightens her posture, lightsaber staff moving to a resting position behind her. Jacen collapses his lightsaber. Rey frowns at the unexpected motion.

“I care about things, Rey,” Jacen says, waving his hands around briefly in case she attacks again, “if I’m being honest, even I get caught up in my little smoke screens. Tell me what’s bothering you instead of trying to cut my arm off.”

Rey sends him a dark look. “Aunt Leia literally doesn’t have an arm. She has a prosthetic.”

“She would have seen the humor in that.”

Rey rolls her eyes and shuts off her lightsaber. “I don’t want to talk. I asked you here because you’re a good sparring partner.”

Jacen’s brow arches upwards. He smiles. “Is that a genuine compliment, Rey Organa-Bridger?”

Rey scoffs, “this is why I don’t come to you for thought-provoking conversations.”

Jacen has a realization. If Rey asked Jacen to spar, it discounts a session with the best fighter in the Temple besides Rey herself.

“This is about Ben,” Jacen concludes.

Rey’s expression flashes before blanking out. She clips her lightsaber to her lightweight maroon robes. She blows air out her mouth to disperse streaks of hair away from her sweaty face.

Her eyes are contemplative when she looks at him across the mat. “I’m worried about him.”

Jacen secures his lightsaber to his belt. “Is there any particular reason for that?”

Rey does not respond. “Just...in general.”

Jacen falls silent. He has a similarity with Ben: both have a strained relationship with their parents. His Mom is a godsend, and his Dad really did try, but Ben wasn’t as fortunate. Leia is moody and elusive despite her efforts to relate to him and teach him meditation techniques. Han is a spacer at heart, a nomad like his Mom, but Han takes any opportunity to stay away from Leia these days. 

And if Han stays away from Leia, he’s staying away from his own son, too.

Jacen cannot say that he hates either of them, though. Leia and Han simply grew apart. They both tried to be together for Ben, but it didn’t work out. It happens. It’s life.

But Ben himself doesn’t know that. Jacen has no clue how anyone would even begin to tell him without Ben imploding on the spot.

Ben is fragile. Ben is emotional. Ben is-

“Ben is,” Jacen shrugs, “he’s Ben. He’s naturally reserved. How do you know something is wrong?”

“A feeling,” Rey replies, “I can’t explain it. Just…a strong feeling.”

Jacen frowns; the connection between Rey and Ben is not something he’s actively wondered about, but it is clear that they have a special bond. It could be due to Rey being the only person who can get through to Ben when he’s moody, or it could be because they are the product of the Skywalker bloodline, the most powerful Force-sensitive family in existence. 

“Strong feelings,” Jacen considers, “are always right. You should check on him.”

“Thanks,” Rey grimaces, “now can we fight like men or what?”

Jacen cackles, igniting his lightsaber. Rey’s lightsaber hums in answer, and they clash together again.

————

Rey has been noticing something different about Ben lately. Even though Ben visited to be with Rey’s family, he was distant. He curled in on himself when in a bad mood. He wasn’t comfortable expressing his feelings. Rey has tried to get him to open up, but Ben simply sat with them and verbalized very little.

She doesn’t know what’s going on. She won’t stop until she finds out what’s wrong.

While Ben meditates in an empty room, she knocks on the door. “Ben?”

“Hm?”

Rey pushes on the door. Ben is illuminated by a crack of light in a dark room.

“I just wanted to check on you,” Rey says, “are you alright?”

“Mhm,” Ben replies. He turns his head as if to dismiss her.

She will not be dismissed so easily.

“Are you sure?” Rey murmurs. “You’ve been weird lately.”

Ben’s mouth twists into a contemplative frown. “Aren’t I always...weird?”

“No,” Rey answers, “I don’t think so.”

This causes Ben to spin around in his meditative stance. He faces the doorway where Rey stands.

“I’m fine,” Ben assures her.

Rey is not convinced in the slightest. She steps inside the meditation room, the door clicking closed behind her. She folds her arms over her chest.

“I don’t believe you,” Rey insists, “something is on your mind. Why don’t you tell me so we can stop going around in circles?”

Ben places his palms flat on the floor. From the center of the meditation circle, he rises and crosses over the lines. He halts when he is close to Rey, at the final ring, his shoulder-length hair blending into shadow.

He makes a doorknob-turning motion with his hands. The Force abides, reopening the door.

Black eyes glistening, Ben says, “just go, Rey. Leave me alone.”

“No,” Rey tips her head down to regard Ben properly, “that’s not what family does.”

Rey moves to touch Ben’s hand to smooth out his tension. Before he can jump back, her fingertips brush against cold skin.

And Rey’s mind is transported to a chamber, pitch black save for a single light, where she is Ben and Ben is her, shivering and alone on the hard floor.

A heavy hand drags across Ben’s shoulders, regarding him with false sympathy.

The voice belonging to it is so icy that Rey as Ben freezes in a hunched-over position.

‘I sense your screaming mind,’ he hisses, looming behind Ben, ‘I sense your doubts, your boredom, your ire.’

Rey’s heart seizes, but Ben’s beating alongside her is anything but afraid.

‘You do not belong in that place, my child,’ the man whispers, coming around to face Ben, who stares at the splintered circular pattern on the floor. 

Ben stares at the broken circle for a long moment. Something stirs inside his mind, but Rey cannot identify or access his thoughts.

The man’s voice slices through the chamber as effectively as a tuning fork. ‘You are a product of the Dark as much as you are the Light.’

Ben’s head lifts, and his eyes trail upwards. A body-length robe adorned with golden embroidery decorates the face of a severely-scarred man.

Snoke.

‘But the Dark calls to you,’ Snoke says, an ear worm to Ben’s senses as much as it is Rey’s. ‘Do you know of your mother’s past? Of your grandfather?’

‘Grandfather?’ Ben sounds out in tired confusion.

‘Ohhhh,’ Snoke smirks in delight as he approaches Ben, ‘did they never tell you about Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi who became Darth Vader, the most notorious and murderous Sith Lord in the galaxy? About Vader’s genocidal rampages? About his temper? About how he is the cause,’ Snoke’s cold bony fingers grab Ben’s jaw and tips it up, ‘of the galaxy’s longest-lasting war?’ 

Snoke laughs, and Rey is utterly mortified.

Leia never told him...why would she never tell him?

She wants to whimper in despair, but the morpheme vibrates inside her head.

‘No,’ Snoke tears his rotten fingers away from Ben’s chin, ‘I suppose your mother is too ashamed to tell you of your family’s past, of your Dark bloodline,’ he kneels down so that their faces are inches away, ‘of your destiny.’

‘NOOOOOOOO!’ Rey screams.

It goes unheard, echoing in her mind as her heart hammers in her dry throat.

The exclamation wrenches something loose, forcibly pulling Rey away from the vision. She is back in her own body and mind, staring at Ben’s furious face as he places a hand on her shoulder. He pushes so that she stumbles behind the doorway, her eyes blown wide.

“Leave me alone,” Ben growls.

Rey comes back to herself, grasping at Ben’s arms and gripping to tangle them together. Ben startles and stills.

“No,” Rey says, loosening her grip so Ben could relax, “I want to help you.”

Ben bats his lashes. “Help me?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yes,” Rey repeats with conviction, “yes, I want to help you. I’ll help you figure this out, and I won’t tell anyone, okay?”

There is a moment of silence. Rey’s gaze darts frantically across Ben’s stony face to clue her in on his shielded thoughts.

“No one?” Ben asks.

Rey has no choice. In order to save Ben before Snoke corrupts him, she has to do as he says.

She vows, “no one.”

Ben nods in assent. Rey lets go of his arms and allows him to step back into the meditation room.

She follows him and shuts the door.


	11. Age 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe, by some power that does not belong to him, sprang into action. Everything that slowed down to monochrome sped up in glaring color. His dull senses come back to him electrified. His motor functions work before his mind does.
> 
> He bolts down the opposite hallway. It is his instincts that guide him across the base. He does not even stop to register what he sprints past or who speaks to him or the personnel that stare in confusion.
> 
> He does not stop until he is outside the medbay. His palms press against the steel wall outside the sliding door. Poe takes a beat to catch his breath, heart palpitating in his ears. 
> 
> When the feeling subsides, he stands up and cups his shaking hands behind his back. The door slides open as he approaches, and he enters the private room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in a week? Madness!
> 
> I’ll be shifting more to the next generation’s story after this chapter. As a reminder, the chapters denote Rey and Finn’s age. Poe and Jacen are seven years older and Ben is two years younger.
> 
> In case it’s unclear, the bounty hunter that was an accomplice in the murder of Finn’s parents is revealed in Ezra’s flashback to be Dengar. I can’t help but put OT Easter eggs in here.
> 
> I understand that the Star Wars term for glass is transparisteel, but, to be frank, I saw that word on Wookieepedia and laughed out loud for a full minute. I refuse to type that ridiculous word ever again.
> 
> After I read this back, I cried. Brace yourselves.

‘He’s on the security cameras making for the exit.’

A teenage Ezra hums at the melodic voice always in his ear. He wishes Luke could see him like this, see the suit that he wears to blend in with the rich beings mingling around the event space. He doesn’t look so wild, his excess thick hair combed back and the suit accentuating his musculature in a way he’s never felt before.

Or maybe Ezra is just a pining idiot who wishes for someone he can never have.

Ezra clears his throat and focuses on the exit doors. The bounty hunter in head wraps they have been searching for, Dengar, exits the gala. Ezra pursues.

How old is he in this memory? Fifteen? Sixteen? Seventeen? Somewhere in those years where he ached for Luke to view him as more than his bodyguard and best friend?

The older Ezra within younger Ezra’s mind ejects himself from the scene. He grasps the strings tangled together and rights them with the timeline.

Before he can breathe in relief, he is transported somewhere else.

He is on a Rebel base, having returned with the Ghost. Sabine smacks his head as Hera orders them to unload the cargo. Zeb nudges his arm so hard that he almost trips, and Hera chides him.

Older Ezra wants to cry. It’s been so long since he’s been on the Ghost!

Nevertheless, his younger self, who he presumes to be in his early twenties, helps carry crates out onto the hangar floor.

His younger self’s heart thumps at a Force presence so familiar that he pauses his task to look across the hangar bay.

Luke is standing in a brown faux fur coat that reaches his knees, white leggings, and a tight beige shirt. His hair is tucked underneath the coat hood, and he is laughing with someone.

Ezra loves that coat on him. Luke only brought it out in colder climates, and it wasn’t regulation clothing, but he got away with whatever he wanted. 

Even though he’ll verbalize otherwise, Luke’s fashionable ensembles get Ezra so...hot. 

Zeb sweeps his hands underneath Ezra’s armpits, pulling him up and away from the Ghost ramp. ‘Stare at your husband later, loverboy,’ he mutters, dropping Ezra’s boots to the floor, ‘you’re blocking traffic.’

Ezra shoots him a playful glare as Zeb grabs a crate and drops it beside him. Zeb sticks out his tongue, causing Ezra to pout and cross his arms.

He fiercely turns back towards Luke, the new angle showing him who he was talking to.

The older Ezra’s heart stops.

REY?!

The Force grabs his mind and tosses it away from the memory. He returns to the tangled strings and the white room where he worked.

The string is not blue like the others. It is golden, glowing an off-white color to express its importance and troubling appearance in the universe.

Before Ezra can bring himself back to the memory, a blue string turns into ashen blood.

Puzzled, Ezra touches it. His mind flies there.

He is a disembodied mind in a thunderstorm. It is nighttime, rain pouring on a silhouette.

A man clad in black robes speaks through a booming vocoder. ‘You cannot save them.’

The man steps forward. His helmet is lined with silver around the eyes, traveling up to his forehead and dipping down to his cheekbones.

Kylo Ren.

‘And you certainly,’ he hisses, ‘cannot save me.’

He throws out his arm, black gloved fingers using the Force. Ezra is projectiled away, flying up and into the rain but not getting wet.

He passes through a cloud, a burst of fresh air, and Ezra’s mind is spinning.

Ezra gasps and awakens, panting heavily as his eyes searched for a light, any light, any indication that this was-

“Shhhh,” the voice is a balm, “hey, babe. Hey, you’re alright. Okay?”

A lamplight on the other side of the bed is turned on and dimmed. Ezra lays on his side to face it, catching the golden light as a halo on Luke’s hair. His heart seizing in his throat beats slowly as he registers Luke’s tanned face swimming amongst the darkness.

Luke’s eyes glitter, and his hand comes up to cradle Ezra’s scarred cheek. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re back. You’re at the Temple.”

Ezra exhales in relief, swallowing thickly. He uses a hand motion with the Force to turn on his lamp, able to study the crow’s feet around Luke’s eyes and the deepening dimples that came with a lazy reassuring smile. The few wrinkles around his face are not enough to hint at his aging body.

Luke Organa is as beautiful as he was when they were young.

“Hey,” Luke’s smile turns into a contemplative frown, “you were just freaking out and now you’re staring at me. What’s going on?”

Ezra teases, “you like it when I stare at you.”

“Not when you’re avoiding something,” Luke’s fingers leave Ezra’s shaven cheek, and he sighs at the absence of warmth, “I know it’s hard to explain what you see, but you can tell me. Always.”

Half of Ezra’s body sinks into the pillow and the mattress. He has no idea how Luke still makes him so dazed when he says things like that.

He smiles softly. “I know, love. It’s just,” Ezra closes his eyes and rubs at his face, “it was a lot all at once, and you won’t like it.”

“Oh?” Luke’s eyes are bright and beseeching. “Do you need to cuddle while you tell me?”

Ezra blinks at the offer; he caught Luke at a good time. “Mayyybeeeee?”

Luke rolls his eyes fondly. He uses the Force to call his hearing aid to his palm, tucking it in his damaged ear and dialing it to a low volume. He scoots closer, moving so that he is higher on the pillow. Ezra tucks his head underneath Luke’s chin, allowing Luke to kiss his messy hair. Ezra casts an arm over Luke’s waist and settles.

“Now,” Luke’s hand rests on Ezra’s hip, “what happened?”

Ezra hates this part. He hates that he has this power. He hates that it has to be him to disenchant Luke and coax him from nightmares.

He buries his face in Luke’s chest and mumbles, “I saw Rey in the past. And Kylo Ren from the future.”

Luke stiffens immediately. “What?”

“Yeah,” Ezra plays with the hem of the white muscle shirt that Luke borrowed, his voice flippant, “apparently, we met Rey when we were newlyweds. And Kylo Ren knows who we all are, confirming my strong feeling that we know who he is in the future.”

Luke’s entire body sighs. “The Rey thing...how in the stars could that even happen?”

Ezra makes a ‘psh’ sound. “Pretty easily, I would think. Do you know how many officers were in the Rebellion?”

“Okay,” Luke says, “good point. She could slip through. We knew a ton of people back then.”

“And she looked around the age she is now,” Ezra murmurs, “which means we would think of her as a new recruit.”

“Right,” Luke hums, “I don’t remember her. Do you?”

“No,” Ezra replies, “but I thought you would. Maybe we really are getting old.”

Luke’s cheek presses against Ezra’s hair. “You’re going gray up here.”

Ezra beams pridefully. “I know.”

Luke makes a noise. “How can you be so calm about that?”

“Because I have you bound by not one, but two marriage ceremonies.”

Luke laughs breathily into Ezra’s hair; the sound never fails to cause Ezra to preen in delight.

“I haven’t thought about our weddings in years,” Luke murmurs, “seems like ages ago.” His tone takes on a harmony of melancholy. “What happened with this...Kylo Ren figure? Are you any closer to knowing who it could be?”

Ezra sighs, “I wish I knew. He said,” his eyes glisten, “he said that we can’t save him, and that we shouldn’t even try. Is it,” he huffs, “is it weird that I want to help a Sith Lord?”

Luke chuckles lightly. “It isn’t. Did you forget who you’re talking to, babe?”

Ezra worries his lip. “You don’t act that way anymore.”

“Act like what?”

“You saved your father, but you won’t contact him as a ghost. Why?”

“Because...because it hurts.” Luke is quiet for a moment. “I don’t like thinking about what had to happen to end the war. I didn’t get to talk to him before he...and I don’t know what to say, even if I did. Isn’t that funny?” Luke asks bitterly. “Isn’t it funny that the former prince, Senator, and ambassador can’t find the words?” He huffs, “that doesn’t matter, anyway. This is about you, Ezra. The fact that your dreams are intensifying means that something is going to happen soon.”

Ezra uses the Force to turn on their bedroom lights fully. From what he could tell of the time, they would have to get up soon anyway.

He shifts and pushes himself away from Luke. He stares at the wall and the fresher door across from the bed.

Ezra sits up and gathers his legs to his chest after untucking them from the sheets. “Don’t try and change the subject.” 

He simmers, and Luke places a tentative hand on his thigh.

“I’m sorry,” Luke murmurs.

There is a moment of silence that Ezra does not care to break. They could argue about the complications of family history and Ezra’s dreams until the sun rose, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Luke knows it as well as Ezra, so Luke allows Ezra to breathe through his emotions. The simmering inside Ezra becomes foamy, suds and bubbles combining into a cool liquid.

Sensing the change, Luke sits up in bed, their knees brushing as he removes them from under the sheets. He turns to regard Ezra’s slack profile. “I love that you deal with me. I appreciate it.”

Ezra snickers; it’s such a Luke thing to say.

He faces Luke, sweeping his gaze up and down. “And I love that you still manage to look good in my muscle shirt.”

Luke nudges Ezra’s legs, nearly toppling him over to the side. Ezra laughs as Luke haughtily spins around and spreads Ezra’s legs apart. Luke kneels on the bed and tugs Ezra closer by his lower legs. Ezra slips towards him on the bedspread and tips his head up with a smirk.

With dancing eyes, Luke captures Ezra’s lips in a slow kiss. Ezra locks his legs around Luke’s lower back as he falls, forcing Luke to follow him into the bed. 

Ezra chuckles in the back of his throat and Luke willingly loses himself in them.

————

Poe Dameron does not expect to grow up in the span of a single sentence. He remembers the exact place where he was told, the exact spot where he stood in the Home One base, and the way everything blurred around him after the words were spoken.

It could not have been spoken by a worse person, a person that wasn’t even a living breathing being at all.

The words were spoken by the Home One base’s fretful mascot, the golden protocol droid that had somehow survived multiple wars and remained in prime condition.

And the words spoken by Threepio were this:

‘Sir, Mon Mothma is dying.’

Everything spun. Everything blurred. And everything changed.

‘Where?’ Poe asked dazedly, already out of breath. ‘Where is she?’

‘She took a fall, Master Poe,’ Threepio said, ‘she is in the medbay.’

Poe, by some power that does not belong to him, sprang into action. Everything that slowed down to monochrome sped up in glaring color. His dull senses come back to him electrified. His motor functions work before his mind does.

He bolts down the opposite hallway. It is his instincts that guide him across the base. He does not even stop to register what he sprints past or who speaks to him or the personnel that stare in confusion.

He does not stop until he is outside the medbay. His palms press against the steel wall outside the sliding door. Poe takes a beat to catch his breath, heart palpitating in his ears. 

When the feeling subsides, he stands up and cups his shaking hands behind his back. The door slides open as he approaches, and he enters the private room.

Mon is breathing slowly, hanging on while Wedge holds her hand. Wedge turns to him as he glides to the bed.

Poe wants to cry; the strong woman is so frail all of a sudden. It doesn’t make any sense.

“She won’t give in,” Wedge says, “until she talks to you.”

“Me?” Poe exhales in confusion.

Mon’s glassy eyes affix to Poe in affirmation. Poe clenches his jaw and pulls up a chair. He sits right next to her head, hands clamming on the side rests.

Poe peers down sadly as Mon opens her mouth.

She rasps, “I hoped there would be time t-to train you better.”

Poe realizes that this is happening, that Mon is going to leave them forever and nothing he can do will stop it from happening, and his eyes prickle with tears.

He sniffles. “I’ll be fine, ma’am.”

“Yes,” Mon says, “I-I have to t-transfer the codes to you.”

Poe snatches up his commlink from his jumpsuit pockets. He flicks on the microphone and incites an override. He places the comm to her lips, blinking so that he didn’t start bawling.

“Initiate,” Mon manages, “Resistance protocol.”

The lights in the base flicker. They come back in the span of a heartbeat.

The commlink causes Poe’s travel datapad to buzz. He shuts off the comm and tucks it away in favor of the pocket-sized rectangular glass in his other pocket. He almost forgot he was carrying it.

The glass flickers blue in Poe’s palm, and the female voice says, “Resistance protocol initiated. Voice activation complete. The voices of one out of two of the following beings can gain access to classified codes and information. These beings are,” a voice recording of his uncle says, “Luke Organa-Bridger,” the robot says, “and,” the pilot’s own voice says, “Poe Dameron.” 

Poe bristles; he didn’t know he was being recorded. He thought he was stating his name for the records.

The female voice continues, “state your name exactly as pronounced in the audio recording. Now.”

“Poe Dameron,” he sounds out, clearing his throat.

“Welcome Poe Dameron,” the voice greets, bringing up a list of encrypted files, “you have full access to the New Rebellion’s systems.”

Poe frowns and looks over at Mon. Her eyes were closing.

His instinct is to shout for her to wake up. His instinct is to prevent any of this from happening.

But this is reality. It is cold in this room. The lights are so bright above them that Poe’s eyes burn.

This is a reality that is all too real.

The heart monitor beeps, and Poe lurches out of his seat to examine it. His datapad nearly slips out of his hand as he watches her heartbeat drop.

And drop.

And flatline.

Poe grips the datapad tightly as he lets tears sail down his cheeks. 

Wedge enters his vision as he stares at the heart monitor. Wedge goes over to unplug it, then faces him.

Poe blinks rapidly at the gray-haired man who holds onto his shoulders. 

“Kid,” Wedge says, his warm brown eyes piercing through Poe’s clouded emotions, “you can do this. Come on.”

Poe tucks the datapad in his jumpsuit pocket and inhales deeply. As he exhales, he swipes away his tears and sniffles.

“Okay,” his voice comes out even, “let’s get to work.”

-

Everyone important is there for the funeral. Not everyone could join due to the obligations of either caring for Jedi trainees or upholding the New Rebellion base security on D’Qar, but it is a packed event.

He keeps his distance from primarily everyone. He stuck by his aging parents, as well as the commanding officers that begrudgingly accepted him as their leader. It was his parents that he broke down in tears in front of after a day of making funeral arrangements and he was allowed a reprieve. Poe told them about his fears, his grief, and his hesitancy to move forward. His mother held him and his father stroked his curly hair while he became comfortable with his new station in life.

And after that night, Poe awoke with a fresh state of mind. There was work to do. So much work to do.

It was up to him. He wouldn’t rely on his elders for guidance. He wouldn’t lean on Luke to save him when he messed up. He had to do this for himself. He had to maintain his job as the New Rebellion’s top pilot and tactician, as well as the leadership role that Mon wanted for him.

Poe kept a level head through the days of transition. He got used to heads turning in his direction. He got used to providing answers for difficult questions. He got used to balancing his hectic life and passing out cold when he slept.

And the funeral took place on base, with only beings friendly to their cause allowed to enter. It was too difficult to arrange a gathering at her home planet, but Poe would have her buried at Chandrila after the funeral.

Poe avoided everyone that arrived on base. Luke tried to catch his attention numerous times to inquire about what happened, but Poe wasn’t ready to answer. Ezra, too, called his name from across crowded spaces, but Poe always blended into the personnel that surrounded him like insects and used them to disappear.

So many others tried to reach him, as well. At one point, Rey stood atop an X-wing and waved from across the hangar bay for acknowledgement. He merely nodded and turned back to his conversation. Han whistled from where the Falcon was parked to call him over, Chewbacca growling in the background, but he simply shrugged and followed a lieutenant. Ahsoka tried to corner him in the briefing room, but Snap shoved himself between them and struck up a professional-sounding conversation. Hera guided Kanan while yelling “blind man coming through!” to contact him, Sabine and Zeb backing them up with blasters cocked during the display, but he scratched his head and hid with Suralinda. Jacen drove a landspeeder recklessly through a walking path to garner Poe’s regard, but he rolled his eyes and sat on the roof with Oddy. 

While extended family appeared out of nowhere to seek him out, Poe’s Black Squadron was a much-needed reprieve from the madness. He would have gone insane if it were not for Snap’s jokes or Jessika’s cleverness or L’ulo’s factoids or Karé’s steadfastness or Oddy’s quips or Suralinda’s intelligence.

Mon’s casket hovers across the hangar bay. Poe waits at the base garage, where Mon’s body will be transported onto Evaan and Winter’s shuttle bound for Chandrila. Mon wears white, and Poe wears orange. 

Mon wouldn’t want them to wear black, so Poe ordered everyone to wear their uniform, regardless of color, to create the palette of a sunset.

Luke stands near him in Mon’s brand of white, and Poe noted that not a single being wore black. It made him smile inwardly; despite the slow acceptance of his station as leader, especially since he was so young, they complied with his request.

Luke turns to regard Poe’s tight profile; Poe has to keep it together until everything is over.

As Mon’s casket drifts towards them, Luke murmurs, “we’ve been trying to talk to you.”

Poe observes the tangerine flowers cast about Mon’s casket. He mumbles, remaining stoic and inconspicuous, “I know.”

Luke’s face falls, mouth curving into a frown in the corner of Poe’s eye.

“Talk to us after,” Luke says, sounding like a request, but Poe recognizes the veiled order in his breezy tone.

Poe and Luke step forward as the casket reaches the garage entrance. Luke makes a speech that has half of the crowd in tears. Poe is the one that loads her body on the shuttle.

After everyone watches Winter and Evaan fly away with Mon’s casket, the crowds migrate indoors to share war stories. Poe glides past groups without getting involved in any drawn-out conversations. So many beings here knew Mon better than Poe that he was uncomfortable speaking with any of them.

As he exits the garage, he walks to the briefing room. It is almost empty save for key personnel listening to radio signals and monitoring the planet. 

Poe stands at the map table, placing his palms on the glowing board, the spot where Mon rested her hands while she spoke.

This is not the role Poe Dameron meant to inhabit, but he will do everything he can to keep Mon’s plans alive.

Sensing Poe with the Force, Luke and Ezra enter the briefing room. Rey is beside them, and Poe blinks in surprise at how much she has grown up. She wears a yellow frock that does not suit the warrior that she was becoming. Her hair is braided away from her sharp features and determined eyes.

Luke and Ezra, meanwhile, wear red and orange, respectively. Luke wears a fiery floral brooch to match his outfit, flickering orange pins tightening his bun. Ezra has the same pins glittering against his raven hair, which has taken on notes of silver. Luke is weary as he approaches, and Ezra sends him a small smile.

“Hey, little brother,” Ezra says amiably, patting his shoulder over the map table, “I heard you’ve been holding down our fortress admirably.”

Poe is unmoved. “Not from what I’ve heard over the past week.”

Luke frowns beside Ezra’s downcast expression. Rey is suspiciously silent.

Luke says, “they’re trying to test you, Poe. Now,” he sighs, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but-”

“Wedge was with me,” Poe interrupts, “didn’t he tell you?”

“Yes, but-”

“She transferred the codes to me and then she died,” Poe says flatly, “that’s all there is to know.”

Rey regards him uneasily. Luke frowns and Ezra rounds the map table.

Standing by Poe’s side, Ezra cranes his neck up to his profile. He murmurs, “when the kriff did you get taller than me?”

Poe does not smile as he normally would at Ezra’s particular brand of humor. He looks down at him and says, “everyone’s taller than you and Luke. Rey probably is too.”

Rey nods in bemused affirmation. Her expression, though, shows she is upset at Poe’s muted behavior.

“Poe,” Ezra touches Poe’s arm to garner his attention, “we know what it’s like to see someone die in front of them, okay? The fact that you have to lead now,” he shakes his head once, “it’s cruel. We want you to know that we’ll help out anytime.”

Poe looks at Luke from across the map table. “I know you were meant to be Mon’s second,” he says, “but I know it’s a job you never wanted. I don’t blame you. You have other responsibilities at the Temple. So,” he huffs, “I’ll take care of everything here. And I know you all want to help, but I won’t count on it. I don’t want to place a burden on anybody who doesn’t want it. Is that amenable?”

Rey’s eyes glisten with pain that Poe cannot even begin to understand. There is a kinship in her gaze, though Poe cannot gather the exact details.

She’s going through something. And no one seemed to notice it but him. The only being who wasn’t Force sensitive!

Luke and Ezra send Poe sympathetic looks. They want to help him, but they have little means in which to do so. 

Luke murmurs, “holo call us anytime. Do you understand?”

“Any time at all,” Ezra emphasizes, “okay?”

“Alright.”

Ezra pulls Poe into a sideways hug, which Poe sinks into for a moment. Luke joins in, as does a timid Rey.

When they leave, Rey’s gaze lingers a couple seconds too long. Poe vows he would have to ask about what bothers her sometime.

————

Dread followed Rey Organa-Bridger wherever she traversed. She felt guilty ever since she left the Lothal Temple. And on D’Qar, throughout the funeral events, a shadow followed her, chained to her limbs, bound to her aura forever.

So two days after leaving Lothal, she is glad to be returning to the Temple. She doesn’t like the way everything sits inside her stomach, a bout of nausea that turns her insides into acidic mush and leaves a tangy aftertaste no matter how many times she cleans her teeth and tongue.

Rey wants to tell her parents everything, wants to kneel in front of them and confess the secrets she has been shielding from them for months. 

But she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t risk losing his trust.

However, the boulder in Rey’s stomach alerts her that something may have already happened. Something may already be happening. 

A swell of voices filter through Rey’s ears and implant at the forefront of her mind. The first is her Dad’s voice, his singing voice, murmuring a lullaby she’s never heard before. A lullaby about a planet made of mountains, of maroon and marble and pearl doves. The words, despite being unable to clamp down on any of them, are in a soft sweet cadence as her wailing ceases, his lips pressed to her freshly-bathed head. 

She is cradled until she drifts, but her Papa’s anger clashes into her mind, forcing her eyes to snap open with a jolt.

‘See what the Empire has done to your lives, your families, and your freedom?’ Papa’s voice is impassioned, younger, and tougher. ‘It’s only gonna get worse,’ his voice filters through a transmission, static but empowering, ‘unless we stand up and fight back.’

The echo of his words short out like a fuse, and the image of a mural lingers in the back of her eyelids. She has never seen the mural before, but it is of Papa, and it is definitely located somewhere on Lothal.

Papa is a teenager in this artwork. His wild hair dusts his jawline and highlights the prominence of his nose. His lips are curved into a fierce line of determination and his eyes are alight. He wears full body armor and carries several weapons on his utility belt, from a blaster to his lightsaber. An array of multicolored flowers create a frame around the image, indicating worship and respect.

As Rey studies the mural, that too is snatched away from her. She is greeted with ambient sound, but something tugs at her heart.

Tugs and tugs and-

Blinking, Rey sits up in her chair. The movement goes unnoticed by her parents in front of her.

Slowly, she peers outside.

When she looks out the viewport of the Tantive VII, dread manifests into a sinking wave of despair.

She sees it before Dad and Papa do: the trail of fresh gray smoke that permeates from the conical structure of the Jedi Temple.

Her mouth emits a whimper, and she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes blur with an ocean of tears, and they trail silently down her cheeks. Her eyes blaze with fire and do not blink as they draw nearer. Her heart is stolen by a cold hand as it spills poison into her bloodstream.

“Rey?” Papa glances over. “What’s the matter?”

Dad looks over his shoulder and frowns at her whimper of a reply.

Then, they feel it. She tells by the way they stiffen and turn sharply.

As the freighter flies over the markets, the fire in the Temple completely fills their sight.

Rey hears Papa frantically hail the Temple’s communication systems. Dad hits the gas and zooms as fast as he can.

All Rey can do is sink in her seat and let tears overtake her vision. The voices of her parents become garbled as she covers her face with her hand. Her body shakes as she sobs quietly, the feeling of injuries and smoke inhalation in other Force sensitives setting her aura alight.

Time passes quickly. They land as close to the dying blaze as they can without harming the freighter. Rey swipes tears from her eyes and stands boldly, the first being to descend the ramp.

Leia is the only Jedi Master guarding the Temple. She leads a group of coughing and soot-covered trainees towards the starship, dabs of darkness amongst the uncharacteristically-bright sky.

Rey rushes at them. Her heart pounds as she counts the number of Jedi with Leia. She sighs in relief when Finn and Shira emerge unhurt, but halts as Leia reaches her. Someone is missing.

And she knows exactly whom.

“Aunt Leia,” Rey breathes as Leia approaches in despair, “what-”

Leia shakes her head; her aura is a cloying ripple effect that travels through Rey’s body. Leia doesn’t know what caused the fire.

“Okay,” Leia projects to the students, “everyone get on the ship!”

They do not need to be told twice. Rey catches Finn’s weary gaze as he encourages the pack. The coughing Jedi trainees dash up the ramp, Dad and Papa ushering them inside in a daze. Finn lingers beside Papa, a smear of soot on his round cheek and all over his clothes.

Leia regards Rey with a harsh panic. “I can’t find Ben. I’m not leaving until I find him.”

Rey’s knees grow weak. She swims in her knowledge and anguish.

Is this what it felt like to be Yoda? To be Dad? To be Papa?

She does not want this.

“Rey?” Leia narrows her eyes. “Do you know something?”

Rey swallows thickly. Dad, Papa, and Finn jog to join her. Their presence sets her on edge.

“You know something,” Leia insists, “what do you know?”

“Leia,” Dad soothes, “she doesn’t know anything.”

Rey steps forward purposefully, putting space between them. Dad bristles in surprise at the retraction.

Rey says hollowly, “I know that Ben is Kylo Ren. I mean, it’s pretty obvious. Ren. Ben.” Her head tips upwards to regard the Temple fire that is putting itself out. “I’ve been preventing Ben from doing worse for a year.” 

A fresh set of tears rises from her eyelids. The Temple blurs into smoke.

“I thought Snoke would be a physical being,” Rey says to the air, “but he lives in visions. In dreams. In nightmares.” She pauses. “In Ben’s nightmares.” She blinks to disperse her tears. “I couldn’t save Ben from falling victim to Snoke’s influence. I tried, but nothing could stop the voices from screaming inside Ben’s head. I’m sorry.” 

Rey sniffles and hangs her head low. Tears drop into the hot sand, fizzling out due to the heat.

“I’m,” Rey shuts her eyes to force tears down her cheeks, “I’m so sorry.”

She darts for the Tantive VII. Finn follows step-for-step, Rey dashing to the cargo hold. She wipes her tears away furiously as she passes the students settling in the seats.

When the door slides open to the cargo hold, Rey plops in a corner. Her body wracks with a deep breath and she rests the back of his head against a wall.

Finn sits beside her in silence. Although he is hurt that Rey didn’t confide in him about Ben, there is an understanding in his Force presence. He comprehends the pressure she is under and what she is feeling.

And she is hopeless. She is mortified that Ben wants to hurt them. She is afraid that he is alone on the streets of Lothal, hiding until he finds an escape route to who knows where. 

Ben is a vulnerable boy. His emotions are more attuned to others than anyone else realizes. He is extremely susceptible to influencers.

Rey thought she could hold the weight of Ben’s problems with Snoke on her shoulders alone, but all it did was delay the inevitable. Ben would always be a victim of the Dark Side; if not her, it would be him.

The engine kicks on again and the freighter begins to fly back to Home One.

She does not know how long she sits there, but eventually, Dad and Papa kneel beside her and Finn.

“Rey,” Papa murmurs, “look at us, please.”

Rey clenches her jaw for strength and looks up.

Dad cups her cheek and wipes away a fresh track of tears she doesn’t remember shedding. “You’re alright, honey. I promise you.”

“You did the right thing,” Papa assures her. “You did everything you could, and it failed. That’s life. All that matters to us is that you did your best.”

“We love what you did,” Dad says, causing Rey to sniffle for a reason other than guilt, “we love you so much for helping Ben when no one else could. And you did help him,” Dad’s thumb brushes away a lone tear, “even if only for a little while.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Papa emphasizes. “Even though you’ll have to be careful around Aunt Leia for a while, she appreciates that you were his friend, his family, there for him. Okay?”

Dad’s hand leaves her cheek, wedding ring glinting in the empty spaces.

“We’re proud of you, honey,” Papa murmurs, “always so very proud of you. But next time, you know what to do.”

No more secrets. No withholding information. 

Never again.

Rey sniffles and nods in agreement. 

She is instantly gathered into a family hug. While her parents and Finn find solace in it, Rey takes the opportunity to let her mind go blank, erase her mistakes, if only for a moment.

If only for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments give me the motivation to write!
> 
> Tumblr: @toomanyfandoms99-ao3


	12. Age 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rey went to sleep snuggled up in her gray blanket, she was in the Home One barracks that had become the bedrooms for displaced Jedi.
> 
> But when Rey woke up, she was on a shuttle full of shivering refugees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic violence, gore, and horror elements.
> 
> Looks like we’re...Back to the Future.

When Rey went to sleep snuggled up in her gray blanket, she was in the Home One barracks that had become the bedrooms for displaced Jedi.

But when Rey woke up, she was on a shuttle full of shivering refugees.

The cargo doors open, and Rey is brought inside a hangar bay with a graffitied red insignia over every wall. 

She masks a gasp at the symbol that has persisted throughout the Rebellion’s history for decades. Despite Poe changing the name to the Resistance as an homage to Mon’s memory, the symbol remains the same.

The group is ushered towards a well-dressed young man standing on a crate besides a middle-aged woman with auburn hair and a bright white dress.

Rey’s jaw drops as she is jostled near the middle of the crowd. All heads look up at their saviors. The young blonde man drops to sit comfortably on the crate, legs dangling an inch above the concrete.

Dad beams at the refugees as he brings himself to their eye level. The Rebel insignia is on his beige shirt, leggings and a faux brown coat added for fashion’s sake. Mon is stoic and prim by his side as the refugees wait for Dad’s word.

Rey is in the past. She has no idea why the Force would bring her here, or how this happened, but she would have to do her best.

“Welcome to the Rebellion’s base on Yavin 4,” Dad says, “we’re happy to have you all with us. The woman beside me is our leader, Mon Mothma. My name is General Luke Organa, and I’m here to give everyone a choice: you can enlist in the Rebellion, or there will be a freighter docking within the hour that will provide you transport if you have a safe place to live. If you don’t have a place to go and still want to leave, we will bring you to a planet aligned with the Rebellion or with a neutral stance in the war. Stand beside Mon if you want to join us,” Dad gestures to the woman, “or stand in the space by my other side,” he gestures to the emptiness, “if you wish to wait for the freighter to arrive. We’ll give you a moment to decide.”

The crowd bristles as the refugees divide in a fairly even split. Since Rey’s path is clear, she huddles by Mon’s group.

Once the refugees settle, Mon leads Rey’s group while Dad instructs the other group where to wait for transport. Rey wants to stay with her Dad, but she would find a way to reach him eventually.

Rey follows Mon and the dozen other refugees who decided to join the Rebellion. She is briskly logged into their systems, issued new clothes, and told to clean up. Rey is soon washed and dressed in beige clothing with the Rebel red insignia on the breast pocket. After this, they are allowed to wander the base before the next day, where they would be tested for what job position suited them.

Until she could worry about that, she returns to the hangar bay without getting lost. A familiar freighter is undergoing docking procedures.

The Ghost.

Rey smiles, wondering if Papa is on the freighter. Since her parents aren’t much older than her, she likes her chances of meeting them.

She finds Dad kneeling beside a Clawdite girl and speaking softly to her. The Force and the lights gleam with his bright smile and animated eyes. The mother smiles in thanks as he finishes his statement and stands, waving farewell to the giggling reptilian girl.

Dad makes for her direction, and she stops in shock.

Their eyes meet.

He halts, expression glimmering as he mimics her position. 

Rey tilts her head to the side, and Dad does the same movement, a perfect mirror.

Dad breaks out into a grin, striding over to Rey fearlessly, coat billowing as he minimizes the distance.

“Hi!” He chuckles. “Sorry about that, I couldn’t help myself. Are you new?”

Rey bobs her head.

“Oh, wonderful!” Dad offers his hand. “General Luke Organa. But you can call me Luke if we’re off-duty. What’s your name?”

Rey instantly wants to say her real name, but she chooses the first moniker that pops into her brain. “Aurora.”

“Ooh,” Dad releases Rey’s hand, “that’s an amazing name. Did you just come in on the shuttle?”

“Mhm.”

“Where from?”

“Um,” Rey flounders, “Naboo.”

Dad hums. “It’s a shame what they’ve done to your homeworld.”

“You’ve,” Rey asks weakly, “been there?”

“It was a long time ago, yes. I have fond memories. Tell me: have you ever been to the Lake Country?”

Rey has to be cautious. She can’t let on that she knows too much. “Once.”

“Oh,” Dad lights up, “I absolutely love it there. It’s one of the few places untouched by the war. Beautiful.”

“Oooh,” a slightly-taller copper-skinned man casts an arm around Dad’s waist and spins him, Dad’s palm pressing against his heartbeat, “what’s more beautiful than you, love?”

Rey blinks incredulously at Papa. In his youth, Papa was far more handsome than she believed; his eyes animate with unfiltered affection and his skin glows flatteringly despite the fluorescent lighting. 

Dad tips his head up and laughs, smacking Papa’s chest. “I’m trying to make a friend, babe, and you’re ruining it.”

Papa wears the mischievous grin that is so familiar to Rey that she aches. “Am I really? Am I?” 

Papa coaxes Dad into a soft kiss. Rey wants to gag.

After Papa pulls away, Dad lightly pushes him back. Papa circles the arm around Dad’s waist and smiles at Dad’s endearing blush.

Dad turns towards Rey shyly. “Sorry, Aurora. This is my husband, Ezra Bridger.”

“Hi!” Papa shakes Rey’s hand, and she notes the japor snippet Poe now wears around his neck. “I love the name Aurora. So cool!”

Rey manages a weary smile. “Thanks.”

“Well,” Dad twines his fingers around Papa’s, “if you’ll excuse me, I have to supervise the Ghost’s progress. Feel free to talk to me or Ezra anytime, alright?”

Rey nods in affirmation. Dad guides Papa towards the Ghost, where refugees pile into the freighter for transport.

-

Rey successfully maintains her cover and is chosen to be a data collector. When she is left to her own devices in a shoebox-sized room, she flicks on the military-issued holo she was given. There are several security measures in place that prevent her from delving too deep, but she makes a general search for her parents.

The search ‘Ezra Bridger’ turns up fairly bare. There are news reports about him leading the charge during the Great Lothal Siege. There is an audio recording of the speech her Papa gave to inspire the masses. But not much else.

When Rey typed in ‘Luke Organa,’ though, her eyes widened at the sheer amount of results available. She put her news feed on a cycle to focus on each.

The first article is a holo of her Dad as a child; he could not be more than twelve. He is on an elevated platform of some sort handing out foodstuffs to a crowd of civilians. The headline praises the ‘young prince’ for his charity.

The next article details a courtship event in celebration of Prince Luke Organa. Dad is resplendent in the holos as he greets the men who sought to win his hand in marriage. Rey catches a glimpse of her Papa looking rather defeated in uniform, and she snorts in amusement.

There are several events that Dad attended to browse in the catalogues. Most of them captured Dad’s chosen outfit and critiqued them. Others are transcripts of a young Senator’s speeches advocating for change. Rey watches a few of the holos preserved for historical purposes, but is indifferent to Dad’s constant speeches. There are also articles that criticize these speeches, specifically one given as a preteen, but Rey swipes past them.

There are years in which no news is reported regarding Dad’s whereabouts. This is the period she is in now. The dark period. The period where the Rebellion went underground.

After about an hour of researching, Rey erases her history on the holo. Then, she finds her parents in the mess hall. 

Chewbacca is at the head of their table roaring at Uncle Han. Both look largely the same, as does a beeping Artoo on the other side of the table. Papa snorts into his drink at a joke Han probably told, causing Dad and a shockingly-vibrant Aunt Leia to giggle.

Rey never thought they looked much like twins, but they did in this moment.

Rey takes whatever food is offered to her, then stands off to the side, searching for a place to go.

But as if sensing her in the Force, even though was painstakingly hiding her sensitivity by shielding, Dad calls out, “Auroraaaaa!”

Rey strides forward, receiving a massive grin from her Dad.

When she reaches them, she looks at Dad to alleviate a flutter of nervousness. It is silly; everyone at this table is her family. She’s just nervous that they are younger versions of themselves and view her as a stranger.

“Aurora,” Dad gestures to his companions, “this is Leia and Han. Big guy’s Chewbacca, and the droid’s Artoo. Want to sit with us?”

Rey bobs her head shyly.

“Alright,” Dad scoots near his sister and Artoo plods towards Papa to make room, “welcome.”

Rey sits and places her food tray on the table. She manages a little wave to the rest of the group.

“Aurora’s new,” Dad explains, “she just came in yesterday. Did you get your job today?”

Rey stabs a pooja fruit absently as she looks at Dad’s earnest blue eyes. “Data collection.”

“Yikes,” Han comments nonchalantly, “that’s not very fun.”

Rey shrugs. “I’m fine with it.”

“She’s fine with it,” Leia sighs, “sorry about this old pirate.”

Han’s eyes flash up to Leia, but he smiles. It is the polar opposite of the temper that Rey is used to seeing Han vehemently suppress in her time.

Maybe they really were in love once.

“I get it,” Rey brushes off, “it looks boring.”

“It’s important work,” Papa emphasizes, “and it’s often overlooked in favor of the glamorous missions that we’re always on.”

Rey examines the affection in Dad’s eyes before he sips his caf.

“Ugh,” Han rolls his eyes, “we’re eating, you two.”

Rey chuckles before she catches herself. When she garners the table’s attention, she clears her throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for laughing,” Papa bolsters, “you need to laugh in this line of work.”

Rey covers her expression by chewing a dumpling briefly. Her parents are experts at setting strangers at ease.

“You were just,” Rey mumbles, “cute, that’s all.”

Papa’s entire body gleams. “Hear that?” He grasps Dad’s hand and everyone else groans. “Aurora thinks we’re cute.”

“I heard it,” Dad glances at a sighing Han and Leia mischievously, “you know what would make this lunch better?”

“What, dear?” Papa leans forward, gaze darting down to Dad’s lips.

Dad’s voice lowers into a whisper. “If we made out in front of everyone.”

“Uhhhh,” Han claps his hands once, breaking their spell, “I think you’re gonna freak out Aurora if you’re considering-”

“They’re messing with us, Han,” Leia says dryly, rolling her eyes, “they won’t do anything.”

Rey is used to her parents’ occasional flirtations. She simply eats as they lean away from each other. Papa winks at them, and they continue making idle conversation.

-

After a night of lengthy meditation, Rey is not tired. Since it is almost morning anyway, she dresses in an orange Rebel outfit. Braiding her hair into a coil, she decides to wander before the majority of personnel start their shifts.

The Rebellion is so similar to the Resistance that it is familiar, yet disconcerting to her. 

Hoping to train in a shooting range or someplace similar before she could be caught, she stumbles into a spare room where Papa trains with his lightsaber.

Crashing back into the closed sliding door, she watches as Papa twirls his lightsaber staff. Every training bolt fired by the hovering spherical bot absorbs into the blades with perfectly-timed maneuvers. Papa moves with his whole body in motion, not the basic defensive positions Rey is used to during training. Papa restrains himself in her time, using his lightsaber staff with a subtle laziness.

Now, right in front of her, Papa is fighting to kill. To hurt and maim his invisible assailant.

After her meditation, inquiring to the Force about her purpose here, Rey found her answer in this moment: to gather knowledge. Learn what she can before Ben resurfaces and brings the war with him.

Everyone at Home One has been waiting with bated breath. The attack had not come for months, which meant it would happen soon.

So Rey observes how Papa moves with intent to kill and burns it into her memory. She doesn’t know when she’ll need the information, prays that she never will, but it is there in case.

He must sense her arrival, because Papa trips, messily grappling with the Force to shut off the training bot. The sphere closes and crashes on the floor.

And Papa looks over at her, panting heavily and swooping his sweaty hair away from his eyes. His blade collapses and he holds up his hands, the double-sided hilt in one of them.

“Uhhhh,” Papa blinks, unbelievably shy and flustered, “this isn’t what it...looks like?” 

He sighs to himself, tilting his head up to the ceiling.

“When will you learn to keep all of your senses open?” He mutters to himself.

Papa levels his head towards Rey and smiles sheepishly. He takes her minimized reaction as a good sign.

“Sorry,” he huffs, clipping his lightsaber to a loose belt on his cargo pants, “it is what it looks like. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Rey wants to correct Papa in that he thinks his senses aren’t working. They are; Rey is merely cloaking her Force presence out of necessity.

“You didn’t,” Rey abates, causing Papa to sigh in relief.

“Good,” Papa catches his breath, Rey noting the sweat making his copper skin shine and his white muscle shirt stick, “good. Um...so…”

“I’ve seen Force users before,” Rey offers.

“Wait,” Papa’s eyes grow endearingly wide as he advances, “really?” He grins in excitement. “I’m so happy that there’s some of us hiding out there! That’s wonderful.” He glances down at his lightsaber hilt. “Uh...sorry about...you know. Does this seriously not freak you out?”

Rey shakes her head.

“Oh,” Papa stands rather close, but she is not uncomfortable as his Force presence naturally draws beings towards him, “well, I’m glad. That you’re, you know, fine with this?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Papa blinks, “sorry, I’m just...I’m awkward. I’m sorry. Luke used to spar with me but he’s a busy man, so I’m stuck fighting against a bot.” 

Rey blinks as an image flashes behind her eyes. She is her Papa, her vision blurred as he blocks strikes. His opponent is so fast and calculated that Rey can barely register the features of a blonde head and a slender body clad in black behind the glare of a lightsaber.

Dad?

The memory flies away from Rey just as quickly. In the span of a half-second, she ensures her shields remain impenetrable.

Papa messes with his hair by sweeping his hands across his scalp, causing the waves to push back. His eyes fixate on her arms, her hands, her fingers. 

“Um,” Papa’s eyes dart up to Rey’s, “my husband said you’re from Naboo?”

“Yes?” Rey narrows her eyes. She really hopes she hasn’t given too much away by providing her birthplace.

Papa stares at her arm, then back up to her. “Uh, I’m sorry if this is invasive or something, because we just met, but,” he bites the inside of his cheek for a beat of consideration, “your skin isn’t pale.”

Rey does not panic. Her caramel skin is odd given the knowledge she was raised on Naboo for her first five years of her life. Nubians are so acclimated to the sun that they didn’t tan.

Once again, Rey offers an answer while revealing as little about her future knowledge as possible.

“I am not entirely Nubian.”

“Ah,” Papa nods once, “okay. Sorry. Was that insensitive?”

“No,” Rey placates.

“Good,” Papa sighs again, “I’m sorry. It’s early in the morning and I’m acting weird.”

Rey is used to Papa’s restlessness. Over her life, she has caught Papa awake at random hours either meditating or training. 

‘I’m just grateful your Dad isn’t an insomniac anymore,’ Papa said when Rey asked about his habits. ‘That all stopped when you were born, honey. Now, your Dad sleeps like a baby knowing that you’re safe.’

That doesn’t count for her time anymore. Rey hopes that they don’t worry over her too much.

“Have you tried green tea?” Rey offers.

“Green tea?”

“It helps,” Rey says, “I wonder if they have any here?”

Ezra shrugs. “We can check?”

Rey nods in acquiescence.

-

Weeks later, the base is preparing to pack up and move to the Hoth system. Rey has been careful not to create too big of a footprint on her parents’ lives, tea intervention aside. She didn’t want them to remember her too vividly.

Other than occasional waves across rooms and quick conversations, Rey kept to her menial task of transferring data. James is her closest coworker, but since he had not met Wedge yet, Rey refrained from discussing personal matters so she didn’t accidentally slip up.

That didn’t stop her from spying, however. Her parents were the most popular officers in the Rebellion; it did not take long to understand why.

Dad worked himself to the bone to ensure everyone was happy, a trait that he stubbornly kept up in her time. His eye-bats of tiredness were restrained no matter the time of day, his regal posture and tidy appearance maintaining the ruse. He travels around the base constantly, checking on progress in every department and tending to concerns directly, as well as converse amiably with officers regardless of rank. 

He is well-liked by all, but Rey knows how talking to beings for uninterrupted hours saps the energy out of her Dad. At the end of the day, Dad simply wants to curl up next to Papa and communicate solely through mental messages.

Sometimes, though, to Rey’s surprise, a younger Dad enjoyed tipping back a glass of spiced wine at the on-base bar and laughing with whomever wanted to gather at a booth with him. She even caught her Dad dancing once.

Dancing!

Papa cackled at Dad while he guided the pair in a slow dance around the bar. Everyone goaded Dad, Leia catcalling her own twin brother at one point.

And whenever Dad returns from a mission, he is bright-eyed and high-spirited. No matter what transpired, Dad was not bothered if something didn’t work out. It is so unlike how her Dad is in her time that she supposes it is aging that made him so crotchety.

As for Papa, he is consulted by near-strangers about relationship advice and issues. Papa was a gossiper as well, spreading information as soon as he received it. He did not have as much work to do as Dad, from what Rey could tell, but he was approached by officers of any age on how to best solve a problem, either strategically or personally. 

Rey has not known her Papa to be anything besides aloof and calm, but he could be clear-cut and cruel in his plans. He could be harsh when his family and friends are threatened. Papa was not playing a war game; he was playing to incapacitate his enemies and ensure their heads never came up from the sand. When eavesdropping on a conversation around Mon’s map table, Rey learned that her Papa’s overprotective nature was stifling.

Papa, in addition to being calculated, was also immensely perceptive. Papa reminds Rey of Finn in that regard, which is why the two got along so well in their family unit. Papa could sense something amiss from miles away, and as a result, he once left the base grounds to investigate a nest of herbivores. He returned from the venture with one of the creatures, a harmless lizard that wound up his arm in a playful manner while the Ghost crew laughed at it.

Speaking of the Ghost crew, Papa’s relationship with them was more tight-knit than she recalled. Dad often had to pluck him out of the Ghost freighter when Papa spent too much time there delaying his reports. Rey stifled giggles at a particular display that involved Sabine and Hera grabbing Papa by the ears while he was deposited before a disappointed Dad. Papa scratched his head sheepishly as Zeb and Kanan snickered from aboard the ship, Dad guiding a flushed Papa away to complete his work.

When Papa was on a mission with the Ghost, however, Dad was visibly worried until Papa returned. On the one instance where Rey observed the freighter dock after a covert excursion, Papa descending the ramp in a stormtrooper outfit which he apparently used to maintain a false identity, he brought Jacen into the hangar bay on his hip. Jacen wore Papa’s stormtrooper helmet as they laughed together, and Dad’s worry melted away at the sight.

Rey learned two things whilst watching this scene: first, that Papa was a well-versed covert operative, an image which she cannot align with the carefree man that was her Papa; and second, seeing Jacen when he was younger was bizarre for her mental state.

Despite the madness that occurred on this base, the patterns of familiarity soothed Rey when she questioned her purpose here. She was to observe, and in her observations, she knew that there was so much more to her parents than they let on. It may not be the best course of action for Rey in the war ahead, but she would take what she can get.

The prospect of leaving this base saddened Rey. She saw so much within these walls, educating herself on the secrets of her family. She did not know what else the Force would throw at her, or when she would be permitted to return home, but she would have to do her best.

As she walks towards the engineering room, she finds Dad standing next to a wall with names etched onto its surface.

Rey has never noticed the wall before. In curiosity, she stands near the opposite end of it while searching for an indication of what it means.

She looks up, and the wall is split into two. Rey’s side was a memorial for fallen Rebel soldiers.

On Dad’s side, the letters near the ceiling said ‘In Memory of Alderaan.’

Pinching her brows together, Rey absorbs the melancholy dripping off of Dad’s physical and mental presences. The grief is not fresh, but it is not dulled either.

Dad’s glistening eyes catch her looking, and Rey freezes. 

The holo news archives didn’t say anything about this...

She jerks up a hand like she is waving. “S-Sorry. Did I-”

Dad clears his throat. “No,” he shakes his head, “no. It’s a hallway.” He snorts. “You’re allowed to walk in a hallway.”

Rey moves towards him awkwardly. Her gaze catches on the names Dad was staring at before she interrupted: Bail and Breha Organa. 

She’s read about the destruction of Alderaan and seen the family holos in the Temple, but something tells her there is more to be discovered. She halts a breath away from Dad.

She inquires dumbly, “why are you looking at something so depressing?”

Dad is silent for a moment.

“Do you not know?” He asks.

Rey shakes her head; she’s asked about the holo before, but she wants to know what Dad has hidden from her. “I’m sorry.”

“How old are you?”

Rey figures it can’t hurt to answer, “sixteen.”

“Five years make a huge difference, I suppose,” Dad says, his expression weary but thoughtful.

He stares at the names as he speaks:

“I grew up on Alderaan,” Dad reveals, “even though I wasn’t born there, I was their prince because my adoptive parents were king and queen.”

Rey doesn’t move. Her vision is assaulted by Bail and Breha Organa decked in finery, their crowns glinting as they descend into a cheering crowd. Dad is there too, a little boy wearing a ruby-silver circlet, hiding behind the queen’s skirts while the king winked down at him.

She’s shocked that Dad never told her much about them, never told her the extent of his life on Alderaan. Maybe it hurt too much.

And she cannot help but remember a young Finn’s words when he read her favorite bedtime story, ‘The Duke and the Waiter.’ Finn said that he had a vision where the Duke was Dad and the waiter was Papa.

Finn was right to question the story’s place in the galaxy. It is an old tale, but did her parents know they mirrored the forbidden romance? 

They must know.

“I’m sorry,” Rey looks away, “I’ll let you pray in peace.”

“It’s alright,” Dad murmurs, “really. I just...need to remind myself every once in a while what I’m living for, you know?”

Rey can’t say that she does, but she remembers the role of a Nubian refugee she was meant to inhabit. She nods but does not expound on it.

“Well,” Dad half-smiles, “I’ll bet you were going somewhere before this, huh?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmurs.

“Go on,” Dad encourages, “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Okay,” Rey hesitates, “I’ll see you.”

Rey trots away, wishing she knew how to comfort him. Since her mind still reels at the new information, she is at a loss.

As she rounds the corner, Dad kneels before the memorial wall and mumbles a prayer.

-

Rey barely gets to wave goodbye to her parents before she is boarding a traveling vessel bound for Mataou, a system in the same sector as Hoth. She is to go on a data collecting expedition to access the condition of the planet.

Fear is a companion to her as she draws farther and farther away from anyone she knows in this time period. She has no idea why she is still stuck in the past. 

Until they are blockaded by pirates.

As the unfamiliar ship closes in, the entire vessel on red alert, the data collectors are rounded up by the guards and taught how to shoot.

Blasters are shoved in their hands, and they listen to the hurried lecture on how to load cartridges, secure the weapon, and fire. 

Rey has never held a blaster in her life. It is heavy. Her hands are clammy against the spray painted metal. She struggles to balance herself with the weapon strapped around her body.

Finally, Rey knows what it is to be petrified; she can hardly concentrate on the guards’ words. She knows what it is to have her senses sharpened and garbled all at once.

And she knows what it is to have no idea what she’s doing.

The vessel is bathed in red as it is rocketed to the side. Everyone braces against the walls and tries not to careen across a hallway.

A guard shouts to prepare their weapons. Rey messily grabs the cartridge offered to her and stuffs it in her Rebel vest pocket. She takes another and locks it into place at the butt of her blaster rifle. It clicks and secures after she shakes it once. She mimics how the guards hold the weapon as a blaster bolt throws an officer across the end of the hallway.

“Hold!” The head guards shouts to the dozen personnel beside Rey. 

They flatten against both sides of the hallway in various positions. Rey cocks her blaster rifle and closes one eye, focusing on the target.

Clanging footsteps appear, followed by a rolling metal sphere. It glows red and emits smoke.

“Fire at anyone not wearing our colors!” The head guard orders.

Rey squints and waits with one side pressed hard against the wall. Her hair comes half-undone from its large bun, dusting her cheek.

A shadow moves, and a shot is fired towards the middle of the hallway. It whizzes loudly past Rey and leaves a dent of smoke on the other end of the hall.

“FIRE!” The guard yells.

Everyone fires blindly, bolts scorching the walls, but Rey takes another approach. She uses the Force to hone in on the shadow’s presence within the pale smoke.

Her heart in her throat, she purposefully aims for the lower leg and fires, the ‘choom’ loud in her eardrums.

The shadow hisses, followed by a clang on the durasteel floor.

Despite the shouts not to do so, Rey advances. The smoke dissipates the further she moves towards it.

She aims at the man on the ground. He has navy skin, red bug eyes, and a brown hat. The being coughs and struggles to breathe with an apparatus connected to both sides of his face.

He holds up his hands, the smoke clearing. Based on his brown leather clothing, Rey assumes he is a bounty hunter.

“Okay,” he coughs, “you got me. I’m just doing a job for somebody else, alright?”

The man’s Force presence screams danger; she does not trust him one bit.

Rey hears boots advance behind her, the head guard regarding her frantically. Other guards point their blasters at the man.

“Good job,” the guard says, “just don’t make a habit of that.”

Rey nods in affirmation. She steps back, shouldering her blaster rifle, as the man is turned on his back and cuffed. 

His name, she learns after he is dead, is Cad Bane.

-

The next incident occurs when the vessel reaches Mataou. Rey had finally gotten her heart to stop beating with leftover adrenaline, but they were set on red alert again.

Rey gazes upon her very first Star Destroyer, right before their main weapons fire.

Being on a starship while it is crashing is unlike anything Rey has ever felt before. She is weightless, but restrained by the laws of gravity. She is lightheaded, but her whole body shakes like a tuning fork hitting glass. 

She has no idea how she makes it to an escape pod, but suddenly, she is dropping through the fabric of space. The limited oxygen is an unrelenting whistle shattering her eardrums. Her vision blurs at the overload of sensory details freezing her skin; she cannot stand the solitary confinement.

The stars had never been more terrifying.

She squeezes her eyes shut through tears flying upwards instead of down, struggling to breathe in her free-falling coffin.

Why would anyone want to travel across the stars when there was so much danger within the empty spaces?

All the escape pods crash on Mataou, the only nearby planet. Rey is fortunate to land near other crashed pods. 

Out of those pods, only half of the occupants remained alive, but the point is that she isn’t alone.

-

Rey loses track of time. Surviving and killing venomous snakes for the collective survival of the group is her goal. She’s become an animal, relying on instinct over discipline to hunt for the injured among them. 

She uses the Force in all the ways she is not supposed to, harming life rather than encouraging growth. 

It makes her sick, but what else could she do? They had to live. Rey wouldn’t lose any more innocent souls.

Not on her watch.

-

Rey is shoving a staff made of scrap metal through a ro hypa’s throat, blood splattering over her face and clothes, when the Light materializes around her.

‘Come home, my child,’ the breeze says, ‘you have learned what you must.’

Before Rey could make the decision for herself, her surroundings blur. Time moves forward in the desert sky. A relief vessel lands on the planet and takes everyone away from this place. 

She is dizzy after that. She closes her eyes.

Everything is blaster fire and war and smoke, but she will not look.

The sound of an engine precedes a feeling of being taken away from the planet, flying across time and space.

‘Rey,’ the Force whispers, ‘the war is here.’

Everything stops abruptly, and Rey hears birds chirping. Trees sway in the breeze, tickling her face. 

And then she senses danger.

Rey opens her eyes. She is in a forest. But not just any forest.

She is on D’Qar. She is home!

She turns, Home One to the west of her position. The base is blaring loud, and anticipation fills up Rey’s gut. Her heart skips a beat.

Everyone is running. X-wings are deployed into the air. Turrets are loaded with energy bolts.

Breathing heavily, Rey tips her head towards the blue sky.

The monstrosity of a starship covers half of the planet. The forest beyond Rey’s reach is cast in shadow, even though it is early morning.

Sprinting into action, Rey grips her scrap metal staff and runs towards the base. She gets there in less than a minute; running from venomous snakes tends to heighten the senses.

As she weaves her way through the screaming hangar bay, a drop ship of soldiers wearing white and black armor are dispatched to the ground.

They look like stormtroopers, but their weapons are certainly more advanced.

And everyone on this base is either too dazed to fire kill shots or retreating.

This is why Rey had to suffer in the past. They need young seasoned fighters. Most of the war veterans are too old to fight.

Rey sprints towards the stormtroopers, breaching the front lines.

“REY!?” Various voices yell in confusion.

She rushes forwards, adrenaline pumping, and shoves her metal staff through a trooper’s jugular. As the stormtrooper crumples, Rey flicks away the blood from her staff with a quick wrist movement. 

In response, a dozen stormtroopers circle around her. Rey grits her teeth and analyzes them, tasting copper on her tongue. She swings the staff between her fingers to show she is ready for them, and the troopers aim their heavy-duty energy rifles.

As she exhales, they fire.

Rey slams her staff on the ground, the Force sprouting a blue shield around her body. The blaster bolts absorb into her bloodstream.

After a beat of the stormtroopers watching her, considering her, solving her, they advance.

With narrow eyes, Rey removes her staff from the jungle floor, the metal unearthing a scoop of soil. She disperses the Force shield and twirls her staff into an attack position.

The blasters transform into daggers, the chunks of metal dropping as knives are unsheathed for close combat. 

With an arched brow, Rey’s staff meets the edge of two daggers at once. She grips her staff tight at their strength and grabs the Force.

A Force blast has two troopers thrown yards away, giving Rey enough time to adjust her stance. She inhales and focuses.

Time slows, and she brings up her staff. She learns their moves before they make them. Based on their angles when charging, she knows precisely how to counter.

On her deep exhale, Time speeds up again.

Rey dispatches the troopers using Papa’s techniques. Her whole body moves as she bends gravity itself to her will. Her staff hits where it hurts: kneecaps, chests, necks, jaws, heads. She barely hears the clod of metal against armor, the squelching of blood on her hands and on her clothes and on her face. She does not register the mixtures of blood types, the chaos she creates all by herself, the unnatural instinct roaring inside her to stab, wound, kill.

But when it is over, less than a moment later, the silence is a screaming wind in her ears. Her surroundings return to her as she stands and breathes in fresh air. Her face is wet, and her eyes are wet, and her entire body is wet. 

When she looks down, blood coats her clothes, bathes her staff-hand, swims in her mouth, and she chokes.

She falls to her knees, but she does not register the pain of hitting the jungle floor. Her head throbs and her eyes stream with tears. She cannot think, cannot breathe, as she is overwhelmed with the fact that she did this.

She did this.

Rey releases her staff, the metal clanging against armor, the armor of one of the dozens of troopers strewn about her form, the carnage that she caused. 

A whimper tumbles from her mouth, and she begins to sob. Her head hangs low as she squeezes her eyes shut. She can focus on nothing else but her pain, her grief, as she cries in the middle of a barren battlefield.

With the drop ship taken care of, a quietness enters the space. A pack of personnel, most of them being inexperienced soldiers, stare at her. She feels them all, sensing Kes and Rex in the crowd, but a sudden pair of Lights have her quaking.

“Baby,” Papa advances, his breaths and footsteps frantic as he kneels in front of her, “oh, my baby.” Papa is on the edge of sobbing as he asks, “are you okay, baby? We’ve been,” he cups her dirty cheek, coaxing her to look up and sniffle, “when you weren’t in your bunk,” he does not finish the sentence, moving his hands to gather her into his arms, “what happened, baby?”

Rey buries herself in Papa’s Force presence, which is strangely calm. She breathes deeply to gather herself for a moment. 

When she pulls back from Papa’s front, she catches Dad’s intelligent eyes over Papa’s shoulder. He studies her face as if he does not recognize her.

Or maybe he does recognize her.

His eyes examine her clothing. The old Rebel outfit is stained with dirt and layers of blood accumulated over a long period of time.

“Ezra,” Dad exhales, causing Papa to peer over his shoulder, “oh no.” 

Papa frowns as Dad presses his palms against his face. Dad shakes his head, holding back tears.

“Love?” Papa prompts.

Dad scrubs his face, eyes glistening as he breathes, “Rey was in the past. Look at her clothes.”

Papa looks down, and his entire body freezes.

When he meets Rey’s eyes, he is ready to cry too.

“My baby,” Papa blinks like he wants to faint at the sight, “oh, my baby. I tried to protect you, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”

Rey swallows a lump in her throat. “We can talk after we take care of,” she gestures towards the sky, at the drop ship being deployed to their location, “okay?”

As if remembering they are under attack, Dad and Papa stare upwards. Their pain melts away from their expressions.

When they all look at each other, they are determined. 

With a nod, they go to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an experimental chapter, so please let me know what you thought.


	13. Age 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Finn surveys the crowded hangar bay, a rolling orange-white droid flies out of nowhere and smacks against his leg. 
> 
> He stumbles back and narrows his eyes at the astromech. Its spherical body and semicircular head should not work in tandem, but Finn supposes that engineers and mechanics have drawn up wilder concepts.
> 
> The astromech, with a feminine tone, beeps in binary. The circular lens on its head peers up at him as if to ask ‘why are you in my way?’
> 
> “Beebee!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advertising: Stormpilot, avalanches, and trauma.

Finn cannot look into mirrors. His reflection is not one that he recognizes.

Ever since the First Order retreated from D’Qar, an instance that most dubbed a miracle but Jedi called a suspicious mercy, the Resistance was bustling. The majority of the galaxy was not as fortunate as Home One and required rescue. The amount of recruits had doubled in the past months, causing the base to burst at the seams.

The first battle was rough for everybody. Finn cried when he made his first kill, deflecting blaster bolts back into armor chinks. When that faceless being fell, the life exiting the body, he realized what he had to become, and he hated himself.

While taking down troopers was compartmentalized, Finn remembered that he could have been one of them and struggled not to sob in the barracks at night.

He had to be strong, and he tried his best, but he felt guilty. Luke and Ezra alleviate his pain as best as they can with hushed words of encouragement. However, everyone dangles from a precipice of apprehension.

Everyone except Rey, who has been to the past and seen a war that Finn only read about. From what the Jedi knew of Rey’s time spent in the past, Rey was a survivor. Rey was the one who rallied the scared soldiers and put them to work. She was the pillar of strength, of courage, of power. As a result, Finn had trouble speaking to her and he was afraid to look at himself in a mirror.

Changing into a beige shirt and a Rebel orange jacket, he secures brown pants and attaches his lightsaber to his utility belt. Finn exits the empty barracks and avoids the mirrors.

He walks aimlessly about the base, searching for anomalies in the Force. Based on their specialties, Jedi were chosen to use them for various purposes. Finn could sense anything amiss; no other Jedi had an expansive range like him. As a result, Finn is a glorified guard for Home One. He does his job well, having recently sensed a predatory creature before it could get close to base and hurt someone.

As Finn surveys the crowded hangar bay, a rolling orange-white droid flies out of nowhere and smacks against his leg. 

He stumbles back and narrows his eyes at the astromech. Its spherical body and semicircular head should not work in tandem, but Finn supposes that engineers and mechanics have drawn up wilder concepts.

The astromech, with a feminine tone, beeps in binary. The circular lens on its head peers up at him as if to ask ‘why are you in my way?’

“Beebee!”

A man in an orange jumpsuit rushes towards him. He has moppy curly hair and copper skin.

It is their leader.

Poe huffs and glares down at the droid by Finn’s leg. “Beebee, what did I say? You can’t run off like that!”

He sighs, untamed curls dusting across his sharp features. He shakes his head once and looks up at Finn. 

“I’m sorry about Beebee,” Poe says shyly, “she’s a new droid and she’s very excitable.”

Finn blinks, studying the man’s face. His eyes dart around too much, indicating his tiredness. He has not shaved in a while, causing his expression to look worn and haggard.

And Finn cannot explain any of his concerns, because a swoop of feelings that flash by too fast to identify tangle him in a web.

“Uh,” Finn clamps his mouth shut and shrugs.

Rey’s teasing words from years ago about Finn’s affinity for getting silly crushes on holo racers flutter up to the surface.

Shit.

“Hey,” Poe’s warm brown eyes widen as if in recognition, “wait a minute,” his expression lights up, “you’re Finn!”

Finn bristles, his voice sounding hollow and perplexed to his own ears. “Yes?”

“Oh wow!” Poe beams, his exhaustion melting away like clouds inching away from the sun. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for...oh, maybe years?” Poe laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, concealing a light blush. “Have a proper conversation, I mean,” he amends, “I, uh, don’t know if you remember me, but, um, I was the one that distracted those guys from kidnapping you by flying a landspeeder. Do you remember that? O-or,” Poe musses with his hair, “when I was with Jacen after Kanan fell unconscious at the Temple? Do you remember that?”

Poe is suddenly silent, rocking on the balls of his feet. Finn blinks again at the man’s enthusiasm and eccentricity.

He does remember Poe. He remembers seeing him from afar when he was a teenager flying a landspeeder. The bounty hunters that were after him on Lothal’s streets gave chase for Poe rather than go after Finn.

Poe helped save him.

And Finn remembers Poe lingering in the doorway as Kanan awoke and started spouting his intentions to seek answers about the future.

It is funny how, after those years of planning, none of their inquiries and preparation mattered in the end. The terrorist attacks that exposed vulnerabilities in their systems occurred despite their early warnings, forcing smaller bases to evacuate with mixed results. The captures were minimal, but the First Order data splicers caused real damage to their coding. James, Lando, and Aphra were still picking up the pieces.

“Uh,” Finn’s mouth is dry, “I-I do. I do remember you.”

“Oh, good,” Poe sighs in relief, “I was starting to think I was freaking you out or something! I’m sorry.” He ducks his head briefly, removing his hand from raven curls, a persistent blush remaining on his copper cheeks.

Finn’s heart palpitates at the endearing combination of traits while the other part of him curses himself out.

But it’s not his fault he is attracted to Poe’s magnetism! 

Finn can easily mistake Poe’s energy as an indicator of Force sensitivity. While Poe grew up around Jedi, Poe isn’t harboring Force-sensitive secrets. The man is open and honest; that is clear from his body language alone.

The astromech, who Finn had completely forgotten rolls between their legs, emits a series of beeps. Poe snaps his head down and forms a drawn expression.

“Well, uh,” Poe glances up at Finn apologetically, “Beebee-Ate needs to get back to her post. A-and so do I. So. Again, I-I’m sorry about Beebee bumping into you.”

“It’s fine,” Finn manages. “No harm done.”

“Okay,” Poe grins, “I’m so glad to finally, finally talk to you, Finn. Took us long enough, right?” He chuckles as Finn musters a half-smile. “I’ll be sure to, uh, talk to you around base, alright?”

Finn, unable to conceal the emotions bubbling up in his aura, visibly brightens and nods. “That would be alright with me, yes.”

“Okay,” Poe backpedals, stepping over a rolling and beeping Beebee-Ate without tripping, “see you around, Finn.”

Poe, who notably struggles when tearing his eyes away from Finn, turns right before crashing into a tower of crates. He curves around the crates and his feisty astromech rolls near his boots.

As he finally retreats back into the base, Finn exhales deeply through his mouth.

Karabast. He’s so done for.

————

“Let’s see what you got, warrior princess!” Jacen taunts over the thrum of his landspeeder engine.

Rey bats her lashes primly, smoothing out her orange pilot jumpsuit and assuring that her trio of braids remains swept behind her shoulders by a silver clasp. Despite their seven-year age difference, Jacen had not matured like Poe. The two had grown up together, their birthdays within the same standard month, but Jacen and Poe could not be more different. Save for their electric personalities, that is.

Rey surveys the jungle ahead of them, resting her hands on the wheel. In this race, a test of her newfound piloting skills, she is at a major disadvantage. Jacen traversed these jungles for miles, driving through a large portion of the planet’s biome itself. Jacen knows every twist, every trap, every change in the terrain.

But that’s the point of the test. Rey has to be able to think quickly. She never knows when she would have to escape with a vehicle other than her bare feet.

Piloting is in her blood. Rey discovered that her Dad was the craziest and best pilot at Home One. Sure, Aunt Leia could dodge enemy fighters like nobody’s business, and Uncle Han could fly them out of any tight bind, but her Dad was impressive as well.

This was in her blood for generations, so Rey can win against Jacen.

Rey presses her foot on the gas pedal, causing the engine to roar in affirmation. Jacen cackles, his voice piercing against the influx of ambient sounds.

“Alright,” Jacen calls out, “go ahead, Dad!”

Kanan sighs as he stands between the two landspeeders. He does not want to be here supervising the race like a flag girl, but the Ghost crew’s amused expressions were worth the humiliation.

“Go Kanan!” Papa applauds, grinning brightly amidst a stormy period in their lives.

“Looking good, old man!” Sabine exclaims while laughing.

Zeb and Hera wear matching grins as Kanan raises up his arms.

He mumbles, “why do I let this happen to myself?”

Then, he sets down both hands at the same time.

Jacen zooms off a beat before Rey, but she allows him to take the lead. Jacen paves the way for her, and she eases past several traps.

Rey breezes through the course, but soon, tricky elements crop up. She has to slow down so she wouldn’t crash near a river. She has to curve around a massive boulder so her engines don’t catch fire.

When they reach the end, they come upon a limestone cliff. Rey didn’t notice they were slowly descending until they were looking up at the monstrosity.

But Rey senses the trouble before Jacen.

An avalanche.

Rey swerves the landspeeder and brakes. At the motion, Jacen turns in pure confusion and brakes.

“What?!” Jacen teases. “Give up already, Rey?”

Rey watches as a trail of rocks and dust travel down the cliff. She leaves the ignition humming on the landspeeder and hops out of it.

“Rey?!” Jacen asks alarmedly. “What are you doing?!”

Rey’s boots clap against the uneven ground and she backpedals in bounds. Her braids smack against her upper back and her oversized jumpsuit balloons around her form, limiting maneuverability. When she gets a decent picture of the avalanche approaching, Jacen rushes to meet her.

“Oh,” Jacen turns and tips his head up, “kriff!”

Rey shoots out her arms, holding her palms in an upwards motion. The Force abides by her command, the boulders catching and halting in midair.

As the pile increases in weight immensely, Rey closes her eyes and grits her teeth. Despite knowing that the strain was in her mind, that the size of the boulders didn’t matter to the Force, it didn’t make holding back an avalanche any less difficult.

“Holy kriff,” Jacen hisses beside her, “how are you doing that?!”

Rey squints her eyes open. The dust settled, but the boulders hang in the air. If she loosened her grip now, it would destroy both landspeeders in a sickening crunch of metal. The Resistance couldn’t afford to lose any more ships or speeders, so she holds the rocks in place.

“You could,” Rey hisses through her teeth, “you know, help!”

“Right!” Jacen smiles in embarrassment, holding out his arms to grapple with a section of boulders.

As Jacen shoulders the weight, several strong Force presences materialize. All five Jedi Masters emerge as if from thin air, sweeping their arms to the side. The boulders split into groups, each Jedi Master setting the rocks near a different area.

They had been cloaking to watch the race!

Jacen frowns and claps his hands by his sides. “They stole my moment.” He pouts. “Dammit.”

Kanan appears to smack his son upside the head.

“Ow!” Jacen shakes out his unruly green hair. “Why, Dad?!”

“You made a rookie mistake, Jace,” Kanan scolds, “multiple, in fact. You cannot have a singular focus while racing.”

Jacen sighs and ducks his head. “I know, I know. I’m trying, Dad.”

Kanan nods amenably. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Meanwhile,” Papa cups his mouth to project his words, “MY BABY GIRL STOPPED AN AVALANCHE ALL BY HERSELF!”

This is followed by Papa squeezing her in a long hug. Rey rolls her eyes and laughs as Dad sighs fondly at Papa’s behavior.

Papa places a kiss to Rey’s matted hairline. “I think you won the race, honey.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Jacen protests.

“She won,” Ahsoka rolls her eyes, “I think stopping an avalanche gives her points.”

Rey suddenly notes Leia burning holes into her, needles prickling the goosebumps on her sweaty back. She nudges away from Papa’s embrace as a result, worrying her lip at the woman’s criticism.

Rey wonders if Aunt Leia knows Ben’s disappearance isn’t her fault.

“Well,” Dad decides, “this deserves a celebration back at base.”

“Really?” Papa arches a skeptical brow. “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

Dad smiles in amusement; Rey has not seen him  
this joyful in quite a while. “Rey deserves a drink.”

Rey’s eyes widen; she has been asking to try alcohol for months! “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Dad nods, causing Rey to bounce in her swishing jumpsuit, “I shouldn’t have kept saying no, anyway. I started party drinking at fifteen.”

“Oh, really now?” Ahsoka gives Dad a side eye, dramatizing the scandalous reactions of everyone in the group. “And when was this that you decided to spike your drinks?”

Dad winks. “I’ll never tell, ‘Soka.”

“Ezra?” Ahsoka turns her attention to Papa. “Do you know anything about this?”

Papa gasps, clutching his chest. “To think I would ever rat on Luke?” He clicks his tongue. “I don’t feel like sleeping on the couch tonight, Auntie.”

Rey’s parents cast arms about her shoulders. She is squished in the middle, but she can’t bring herself to complain.

-

Rey lays with her stomach against a rooftop. Ahsoka beside her, the two breathe in tandem with one another. 

Ahsoka removes her eyes from the binoculars. “Xizor’s presence is confirmed. Do you have him on your scope?”

The Falleen crime lord lingers by a panoramic window. Rey trains the scope on his shoulder.

“I do,” she replies measuredly.

“Okay,” Ahsoka says, “I really hope this works.”

The goal is to maim Xizor. It is a decision that wasn’t made lightly; Papa is no longer privy to Time, having been shut out of memories and the Force’s timeline ever since the Temple burned. They are flying with blindfolds on, and none of them enjoy it very much. 

Due to the uneasiness, the Jedi Masters decided to go against the advice of the Force ghosts and seek out Xizor again. Ahsoka and Kanan tracked down the Black Sun crime lord within a couple weeks traversing on the Ghost. After days of discussion, Rey was chosen for this mission alongside Ahsoka. 

Darth Plagueis has been using Xizor’s body undetected for years. The Jedi Masters believed that wounding Xizor would cause Darth Plagueis to exit the body and find Snoke’s physical form.

Rey wouldn’t much like to be in Xizor’s position: a puppet who has no power over his captor.

Ahsoka crouches in a pouncing position over the rooftop railing. Both of her lightsabers are strapped to each side of her hip, her maroon body armor strapped tightly around her exposed skin.

“I’m ready,” Ahsoka says, “take the shot when you have it.”

Xizor is pacing back and forth for a moment. Rey follows him with her scope. She refrains from making an impatient noise.

Finally, when Xizor stops moving and speaks to someone in the room, Rey pulls the trigger.

Glass shatters. The blaster bolt digs through Xizor’s shoulder.

Ahsoka flies between the buildings with a Force leap and lands on the windowsill. She pulls herself over into the room gracefully and ignites her lightsabers. She deflects two shots fired in her direction. Rey senses two bodies thump on the floor.

Ahsoka retracts her lightsabers, clipping them to her belt in synchronization. She bends over a wounded Xizor hissing and bleeding on the floor. Rey uses the Force to heighten her hearing.

“Hello, Plagueis,” Ahsoka hisses, hands clamping hard on Xizor’s forearms. Her grip is tight as she drags Xizor to his feet; all he can do to combat her is jerk to try and escape.

Her hand presses hard on the shoulder wound, and Xizor screams.

“Do you mind if I eject you?” Ahsoka sticks her thumb in the wound.

And Rey watches as a mass of pure darkness exits Xizor’s screaming mouth, the monstrous aura flying from the broken window and fading into the sky.

Rey stares for a moment, but Ahsoka’s voice brings her back. “Get over here.”

Her head snaps towards the window. Xizor is now half-held by Ahsoka.

Rey slings the sniper rifle over her black stealth robes. She steps up on the rooftop railing. She glances down to ensure no civilians below would look up at her.

Unceremoniously, she places her foot in thin air and evens out her weight. The Force catches her as if an invisible bridge connected the buildings together.

When Rey saw her Dad do this, in both a memory and in reality, she insisted that he teach her.

‘It’s a trust fall,’ Dad explained, ‘but you are not falling towards a person. You are falling into the Force, the air particles themselves. Although they are invisible and weightless, you must believe in them.’

Determined, Rey bounds across the two buildings. Ahsoka catches her gaze as her boots crunch the broken glass upon entering the room.

“Hm,” she says, “I never could figure out how your Dad does that.”

Still holding onto an unconscious Xizor, Ahsoka drags his feet across the carpet. Rey wordlessly grabs the legs and notes the congealing blood on the crime lord’s shoulder wound.

“Uh,” Rey blinks, “I don’t think he’s okay.”

Ahsoka studies the wound, and her expression falls. “Blast,” she hisses, “he can’t be moved. Set him down.”

Rey drops his legs and Ahsoka lays him on the carpet. Blood splotches the beige surface and wets Xizor’s entire arm.

“He’s not going to make it out of here,” Ahsoka sighs, “he’s losing too much blood.”

Rey swallows thickly. “I don’t understand,” she says numbly, “I shot his shoulder. Only his,” Rey is lightheaded as her voice softens, “shoulder.”

The sound of a baby wailing pulls a thick curtain over her vision. Crimson and beige swim to form flesh and blood. 

A baby. A crying baby.

‘Hey,’ Papa’s shushing as he rocks her on his hip soothes her, ‘it’s alright, honey. It’s okay. Papa’s here. Always here.’

Rey blinks, the disembodied memory snatched from her. Her blurry eyes fill with water, but she exhales slowly to dissipate it.

“Hey,” Ahsoka’s commanding voice causes Rey to grasp onto the words, “this isn’t your fault. You followed orders. Got it?”

Rey watches blood spill onto the carpet, a dam bursting forth a lake of expired life. Xizor fades by the second, the final remnants of a charred soul leaving him.

She murmurs brokenly, “got it.”

————

Ahsoka Tano did not expect to be consoling a teenage girl today. 

As she sets her starship on autopilot, having covered their tracks and left Xizor’s body behind, she exits the cockpit. She seeks out Rey, who has been cross-eyed ever since Xizor bled out right in front of her.

Ahsoka truly did not expect this reaction from Rey. She’s killed animals and stormtroopers before, even when it went against her instincts to love all creatures. She’s never been averse to the sight of blood.

But she supposes killing a humanoid being by accident is an entirely different beast in Rey’s mind.

Ahsoka pretended all the beings she had killed were predatory monsters; it was a trick she learned from Rex. It was her only way to fall asleep at night, reassured that she was not killing because she enjoyed it. 

She kills because she lives for her family, her dead Master’s family.

Ahsoka finds Rey curled in a blanket within a booth. Ahsoka bristles when she recognizes the gray blanket as the heirloom passed down from Kes to Ezra to Poe to Rey. Ahsoka had no idea Rey kept it with her after all of these years, from Varykino to the Temple to Home One.

Ahsoka slides into the booth next to Rey, armor plates clunking against the hard material. She’s not one to deliver speeches and encouraging words, but she would do her best.

“This is my third war,” Ahsoka says, “and there are times when I forget what it is to be a child born during a time of galactic peace, like you.”

Rey’s head pops out from the blanket, triple buns coming undone at the nape of her neck. Rey’s eyes, Luke’s eyes, Anakin’s eyes, are an expanse of lakewater.

Ahsoka crosses her arms over her chest, slouching in the booth. She stares at the opposite wall.

“When I was a little girl on Shili,” Ahsoka murmurs, “I remember being so happy before the Jedi took me to Coruscant. My home world used to be so beautiful. Lothal used to be beautiful too. But both have been damaged by the other side of a useless war.”

They always went for nature first. Why do they always set fire to the beautiful? To the miracles?

Like Lothal, Shili’s biome never recovered. There are patches of grass and flowers that have grown amongst the dead land, but it was nowhere close to how resplendent it used to look.

“And when they took me away,” Ahsoka murmurs, “I was happy to have a home, of course, but I was resentful too. I learned to live with it as I grew up, but going to war at fourteen made me realize how stupid I was back then.”

“It’s not stupid,” Rey says, “it’s normal.”

Ahsoka hums noncommittally. “When I saw you crack earlier today, I remembered the fourteen year old Padawan I used to be, terrified as I watched the senseless destruction between clones who didn’t know any better and the mindless droids that tore the galaxy apart. I remembered what it was to be you, and I’m sorry you have to go through what we all did, but we all had to go through it. We had to kill to survive. All of us. It’s not pretty, and it’s not going to get any better. What you have to do is accept that you’re doing what’s best.”

“For who?” Rey wonders.

“You,” Ahsoka finally meets Rey’s conflicted gaze, “your family, your friends, your comrades. The beings scattered throughout the galaxy who are once again afraid of the cruelest regime I have ever witnessed. You’re doing what’s best for the children who are scared of becoming a soldier, the fate that your adoptive brother was fortunate enough to escape. You’re helping others, Rey, by doing what most are powerless to do.”

Rey lowers her head, sniffling as her eyes water. “And this helps you sleep at night?”

Ahsoka nods solemnly. “It does.”

Rey curls up in her blanket again, turning away from Ahsoka. “I’ll try my best to remember that.”

That’s as good as it’s going to get, Ahsoka figures. She leaves Rey to think.

————

“-and he’s clever with his words, he chooses his words so carefully that I’m bewitched by everything he says. He’s brave in the face of danger, and he has a kind heart, and he’s endearingly honest, and just,” Poe lays on the nose of his X-wing and sighs forlornly, “I just think he’s really, really enchanting and charming and wonderful.”

“Wow,” Snap snorts in amusement, securing loose plating below Poe’s X-wing, “after only a few conversations, you’re crazy in love, huh?”

“Hey, boss?” Jessika prompts.

Poe lays on his side to peer down the nose of his starship. Jessika looks up at him from the shade, a single braid cast over her shoulder, hands on hips. He notes that Jessika is stained with engine oil on her jumpsuit.

“Did you really allot a whole hour of your day,” she asks, “to wax poetic about Finn Organa-Bridger?”

“Yeah,” Oddy motions a socket wrench in Poe’s general direction from his own X-wing, which is under repairs, “he put it in his schedule as such. He wrote ‘wax poetic about Finn Organa-Bridger to my poor squadron, who are just trying to get shit done.’”

Poe rolls his eyes as Suralinda emits a rare snort-laugh. The blue-skinned woman appears to stand in the shade with Jessika, looking up in amusement.

“You’ve got it bad,” Suralinda’s serpent-esque gaze gleams, “Jess has a point.”

“I don’t even think my own husband has said that many sweet things about me in all our years of knowing each other,” Karé points out, handing Oddy a bucket of paint and a brush.

“Aw,” Snap does not look at Karé as he secures a X-wing plate, “thanks, honey.”

“I hate to be the downer,” L’ulo adds from his perch on the wings in Poe’s starship, “but aren’t you both related?”

Poe lays on his back again and sighs. His gaze is dizzy underneath the sun’s afternoon rays. “We don’t share blood,” he replies, “but our families are close, yes.”

“You’ve never explained before,” Jessika says, “what’s the relation, exactly?”

Poe uses his lashes to shade his eyes from direct contact with the sun. He wants to comment on how Finn, while reserved upon first meeting, shone as bright as a thousand suns when they talked alone. Instead, Poe focuses on the calm clarity of the picturesque sky.

“My parents partially raised Finn’s adoptive dad, Ezra, when he was a refugee,” Poe explains concisely. “That makes Ezra and I like brothers, even though we’re almost twenty years apart and I’m closer in age to his children, Rey and Finn.” 

“That didn’t help at all,” Suralinda comments.

“That hurt my head,” Karé concludes.

“The point is,” Poe says, “we’re not related.”

“But it’s weird,” Snap says, stepping away from the X-wing so Poe could see his bearded round face, “and that’s a concern of yours, right?”

Poe uses his palms to push himself up. His torso lifts away from the X-wing nose. He turns his legs around so they swing from the starship and he peers down at his best friend.

“I don’t want to think too much about it,” Poe says honestly, “I just want to be his friend for now, anyway.”

“That’s a sound plan, buddy,” Snap approves.

Poe refrains from sighing in relief. “Thanks, man.” He slaps the nose of his X-wing. “I suppose my hour is almost up, huh?”

Suralinda snickers.

Poe hops off the X-wing, landing smoothly and regarding his squadron.

“Let’s get to work,” he says.

————

Ben sits in the blackened chamber, bathing in shadow as he awaits his Master. Ben senses him near, lamenting the loss of Xizor’s body.

Ben is glad of it; Xizor was simply a means of transportation. When his Master allowed Xizor to command his own body, he was callous towards Ben and jibed that he was playing a part.

And it’s true, in a way: Ben is playing a game. He has been playing a game ever since he set the Temple on fire. It is a game of holochess, a game for beings of complexity such as the Jedi and the Sith. 

Luminous beings, intelligent beings on both sides. 

Ben’s opening trick: to make his enemies believe he is a harmless pawn. Someone to be bossed around, someone who is loyal to the Dark and to his new Master. Someone who will not be questioned, someone with privileges and independence to do as he wishes. 

His ability to cower and mask his intentions has worked well so far. His Master had no idea about Ben’s doubts, his isolation as an urchin amongst leeches. Ben cannot slip up or the chessboard will be revealed.

All the steps that have to be taken must be taken alone; Ben has known this for his entire life. The task falls squarely on him, and failure is not an option.

The circle must be broken.

The toxic shadow-form of his Master seeps into the solid walls of the chamber, swirling around his body. Since Ben can see nothing with his eyes, he puts his energy into heightening his other senses.

Ben waits a moment for the muffled activity to quiet.

His Master’s voice is different, stuck between a hiss and a growl. “I didn’t expect that witch Ahsoka Tano to be such a nuisance. She destroyed my host!”

Ben foolishly wants to remark on the petulance laced into his Master’s tone, but control is everything in these encounters.

“Killing the Jedi will be no small task,” Ben says evenly.

There is movement in the shadows. “I’ll have to fashion a new host sooner than expected.”

“Would you like me to leave you,” Ben asks, “my Master?”

“Yes, child,” he barks, “go hunting.”

Ben uncrosses his legs from a meditation stance. As he rises gracefully, his broadening form retreating the chamber, his Master chuckles.

“They will soon know your new name,” he says, “Kylo Ren.”


	14. Age 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He examines the smears of blood on Poe’s face and probes the Force. Thankfully, Poe is not seriously injured.
> 
> “Poe,” Finn garbles through his vocoder, “it’s me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Maz Kanata isn’t a part of this fic because her storyline is rendered null and void by my choice to keep the Jedi alive.
> 
> 2\. I decided to add an Easter egg that Ezra fought Pre Vizsla on Jakku.
> 
> 3\. Take note of how the names Ben and Kylo are used throughout the rest of this fic.
> 
> Without further ado, welcome to TFA! #PaigeTicoLives

Watching Poe get arrested through a First Order stormtrooper helmet was not how Finn expected his covert mission to end.

Finn begged for the opportunity to become an operative for the Resistance. He had the ability to conceal himself in the Force as well as Rey, so he was certain he could take on the job Ezra had in the last war.

Luke and Ezra were not pleased with the idea, but it was Poe and the other Masters that backed him up in this regard. 

And so, begrudgingly, Finn got to become a stormtrooper.

It had been a standard month since he was stationed at Starkiller base, the planet-sized destroyer that the Resistance sought to blow up. He took the place of a dead man whose body was never found. He even took his numbers: FN-2187. 

Since Finn and the dead man had a similar likeness, the transition was seamless. The commanding officers, such as Captain Phasma, did not care about their men. That gave Finn a leniency they were too brainwashed to recognize.

Finn had copied and transferred so much data to Home One that he wanted to snicker into his helmet and tease the First Order for being so foolish.

The straightforward mission changed when he was sent to Jakku. Finn was thrown into his first battle against his own people, the officers he befriended dying all around him.

That was when Finn saw Ben for the first time since his disappearance four years ago, when he faded into the fire and smoke of the burning Lothal Temple. The entire Resistance has been waiting for his return, along with Snoke, ever since Rey told them of Ben’s nightmares.

Finn didn’t think he would be the first in the family to see Kylo Ren, the slaughterer and pillager of dozens of worlds. Kylo can’t take all of the credit, however; his Knights of Ren are beastly and carnivorous.

Kylo is exactly as described by Ezra and Rey: loose black robes for maximum maneuverability, every inch of skin covered in black, a helmet with a silver design around the eye plates, a hood over his concealed identity.

He glides out of a personnel shuttle and across the burning sand, blending into the shadows of the night. 

Kylo Ren ignites a lightsaber, and Finn’s heart thumps out of his chest in fear.

He has never seen a pure Sith lightsaber before. The kyber crystals screamed in pain, practically dripping electric blood out of the main blade and both side blades. 

Finn remembers the screaming he used to hear in Ben’s head before he learned how to shield. He exhales heavily through his vocoder when he recognizes that the lightsaber is mirroring Ben’s mind.

Kylo relentlessly advances to the sand dunes where Resistance soldiers are scattered, breaking formation with the stormtroopers. He uses one hand to deflect blaster bolts with his lightsaber in dizzying twirls while a gloved hand uses the Force to crush weapons and knock soldiers down defenseless.

When Kylo finds Poe, grabbing him from behind a moisture vaporator and dragging him towards the scattered flames, Finn’s heart stops.

Fuck the mission.

Finn aims his blaster right for Kylo’s helmet. His scope ghosts there, and it makes him feel better that he could do it. Kylo shut off his lightsaber, so Finn has the power to shoot him, but he wouldn’t because this is Ben and Poe’s safety is more important here.

Gasping, Poe is dropped on his feet. He lands shakily and coughs, Kylo’s men cocking their blasters at him. 

Kylo’s vocoder sends a chill through Finn’s entire body: “Tell your men to surrender. You lose, Poe Dameron.”

Poe sputters, “you know me, dude?” His eyes widen in interest, studying the mask. “Because I don’t know you.”

“Don’t,” Kylo hisses, clenching his fingers into a fist, “test me. I know when you lie.” He releases his fingers, loosening his grip on the Force. “Now surrender.”

Poe’s expression hardens. “I will only go with you if you set my people free.”

Kylo huffs through his vocoder. “When did you get so boring, Poe?” He tilts his mask towards Captain Phasma. “Take their weapons and let them go.”

Captain Phasma argues, “but, my Lord-”

“What did I say?” Kylo booms.

Captain Phasma hesitates, but mutters, “yes, my Lord.”

She gives the order to lower weapons. Finn watches at least a dozen Resistance officers escape into the sand dunes. He notes that Beebee-Ate, who was hiding with the base plans, rolls away with a woman that he recalls named Paige. Civilization wasn’t far, and Finn sent a prayer to the Force to keep them safe.

Kylo regards Poe again. “Hands.”

Poe puts his hands up. Kylo advances and materializes binders, grabbing Poe’s wrists as he is tightly cuffed. Poe simply glares at the mask, lip curling in an unvoiced growl. His expression is cut off as he gets dragged to Kylo’s personal shuttle.

“Regroup at base,” Kylo orders the troops, “I need to interrogate this traitor.”

Finn clenches his jaw as Kylo disappears with Poe onto the starship. He wants to run towards them, to hide on the shuttle and take Ben out himself, but Finn knew he had to wait for an opening.

So Finn went back on Phasma’s vessel and laid low with the other soldiers. As they exit the atmosphere, Finn senses Rey and Leia are still somewhere on the planet.

If he had known they would be converging on Jakku, Finn would have reacted differently, turned on everyone during the battle and ran off with Poe.

Oh well. Finn had to move forwards, always forwards.

They return to Starkiller Base at dawn, Kylo and Phasma arriving at the same time. As Finn is marched out with the remaining stormtroopers, he watches from a distance as Kylo ushers Poe to the prisoner’s wing.

Kriff.

Finn is ordered by Phasma to watch over Poe, and he nearly chortles in elation. He scampers in his armor, following Kylo and Poe’s tracks.

He catches up with them as Poe is thrown into the interrogation room. If anything, it is a torture room.

Finn is a moment too late. He would have to be patient.

He stands near the door, gun in a diagonal angle pointed downwards. General Hux, the biggest tightwad in the whole base, passes by in an angry huff over the fact that Kylo let Resistance officers go for the sake of Poe.

Finn pays the snippet of an interaction no mind as the door slides open a seven heart-racing elastic minutes later. Kylo shoves Poe in Finn’s general vicinity, the wounded man tripping and tipping into Finn’s arms. 

“Take him to a cell and bind him,” Kylo barks as an order to Finn. With the sweep of his black robes, he is storming down a hallway towards Hux’s direction.

Finn catches a bleary-eyed Poe sagging in his arms. He is glad that he grew so bulky during puberty; if he had remained a skinny boy on Lothal, Poe would have face-planted on the marble floor.

He examines the smears of blood on Poe’s face and probes the Force. Thankfully, Poe is not seriously injured.

“Poe,” Finn garbles through his vocoder, “it’s me.”

Poe blinks twice, struggling to meet Finn’s helmet, seek him out through the eye plates. Finn almost expects him not to know, not to understand who he is through a simple two words and a vocoder that masks his voice, but Poe’s brown eyes smile.

“Finn,” he breathes, holding Finn’s shoulders so he can stand, “oh, Finn,” Poe breathes laboriously, “I’m so glad you found me.”

Finn’s heart flutters, but he keeps his voice even. “I’m going to mess with the cameras as we walk. Stay calm and try not to speak. I’m getting you out of here.”

Poe bobs his head, turning around with a wobbly smile. “Got it.”

Finn sticks his blaster against Poe’s side and guides him down the hallway. Poe’s grogginess subsides as they return to the hangar bay, not garnering suspicion from conversing passerby. Finn uses half of his brain power to discreetly tilt the cameras away from them with the Force.

When they reach the docked TIE fighters, Finn speaks again. “Can you fly us out of here?”

“Course I can,” Poe’s tone indicates the gleam in his eyes, “I can fly anything.”

“Get inside, then,” Finn says as the man climbs the wing, “and hang on.”

Finn moves behind a thick beam where the controls keep the starships locked. He surveys the area to ensure no one is looking and pulls down the lever. The charging stations unlock like popping an electrical wire from a socket. Six TIE fighters connected to the switch are freed from their stations.

Poe lowers himself inside the rightmost TIE fighter. Finn climbs the wing beams. 

He drops into the cockpit, flushing inside his armor when he notes how cramped the space was for both of them to fit. The engines flare up with heat, and the systems glow to indicate the starfighter is at full power. 

Finn pops off his helmet and tosses it aside. Poe glances from behind him and grins.

“They’re opening the shipment gates,” Poe says gleefully, “it’ll be perfect!”

And Poe’s gaze lingers on Finn’s face. Poe flushes for another reason besides the close quarters, and Finn wishes he had his helmet back on to cover his expression. 

Why did this have to happen to him now?!

The flaring engines beep to indicate they are ready. Poe tears his eyes away from Finn, slotting into Leader of the Resistance mode. “Brace yourself, Finn.”

Then, Poe is zooming within the Starkiller base hangar. Finn senses chaos emerging, and Poe jerks the TIE fighter towards the gates.

As they skirt past a shipment vessel, leaving the base behind, several TIE fighters fly in after them. Poe rockets them away from Jakku and uses maneuvers to dodge their shots.

Finn senses Ben inside one of the starfighters, and he mutters, “kriff. We’re going to crash.”

“What?!” Poe’s head whips over to Finn. “What makes you say that?!”

“Ben,” Finn amends, “I mean, Kylo...he’s here. He’s in the air.”

“Shit,” Poe curses, twirling them around in an upwards direction, “I see him. You’re right. I’m banking for the Falcon.”

“The Falcon’s here?!” Finn exclaims in elation and confusion.

“Yeah,” Poe clips, “I’m gunning for them,” Finn’s mind whooshes as they curve to the east, “we have to make him shoot us.”

Finn sighs deeply, Ben’s screaming mind invading his senses, a throb on the side of his temple. He leans his head back and closes his eyes to breathe through the setback.

“Okay,” Poe exhales, “I’m lowering us. He’s got us in his sights. Are you ready?”

Finn opens his eyes and levels his head. “As I’ll ever be.”

Seconds later, a blast clips between their two seats. Finn’s eyes widen as the TIE fighter splits between their spots.

The air whistles through the cracks, and Finn turns around as they separate. 

All he registers are Poe’s panicked brown eyes flying away from him as he collides with sand.

————

Rey is so bored at the idle Jakku spaceport that she regrets asking to leave Home One. At least Home One was safe and uneventful after that first attack.

Chewbacca was playing holochess with a surprisingly-meek Threepio in the Falcon; it reminds Rey too much of playing holochess with Ben, so she avoids the area. Han is inside the markets with a Resistance contact trying to figure out what happened to Beebee-Ate and the officers who escaped last night’s battle.

And Leia, who was hiding in Han’s cabin until this moment, enters the cockpit and plops beside Rey. Since Rey has no idea what to do in this situation, as they hadn’t really talked since Ben left them, she curls up in Han’s chair defensively.

Leia notices the motion and winces. The woman, who was aging at a rapid pace ever since the war began, sulks.

“Rey,” Leia says, “I know it’s not your fault.”

It feels like it’s her fault. Rey could have tried harder to save Ben. But everyone tells her that she did what she could.

“It’s not yours either,” Rey says, studying the beings walking outside the Falcon viewport. 

It is a normal day for these beings, and Rey wishes she could have a mindless afternoon buying the best foods from the markets.

“I suppose not,” Leia muses, “it’s the Skywalker bloodline that is cursed.”

Rey turns to regard Leia, who stares at her lap, clothed in brown robes, hair hanging loose all about her body.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Rey counters, “by that logic, I have just as much of a chance of Falling.”

Leia’s brown eyes are fiery and hard when she looks at Rey. “Don’t say that. I never could have survived for months on a deserted planet with venomous kriffing snakes. You’re strong, like your Dad.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not strong too,” Rey contemplates, “it means you’re a different kind of strong. Either way, it’s the kind of strong that results in survival.”

Leia blinks. “I don’t have the wisdom that you do. It seems you get that from your Dad too.”

“I’m going to take that as a...compliment? Is that a compliment?” Rey wonders.

A ghost of a smile upturns on one side of Leia’s mouth. “And there’s your Papa. By the stars.” She turns to face the viewport. “I’m sorry for not talking to you lately. I really have no excuse for being a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch,” Rey snorts, “you’re trying to cope. I understand.”

The Falcon ramp opens with a gust of steam. Leia swivels in her chair as Chewbacca growls a hello to a specific pair of footsteps. She glances at Rey and pats her hand. 

Han frames the doorway, all gravelly wrinkles and suave gray hair. “That spunky little droid and a dozen others made it to the spaceport west from here. Our contact is arranging transportation for them.”

He shuts his mouth, hesitation in his gray-blue eyes.

“What?” Leia prompts, tipping her head up at the withholding of information. Rey looks up at Han too.

“But,” Han reports, “Poe wasn’t with them.”

Rey’s heart drops. She always thought, even if family members weren’t Force sensitives, she could sense when they were in trouble. That wasn’t the case, and now Rey feels sick. 

If something happened to sweet Poe, she wouldn’t forgive herself.

Her only solace, however, which she verbalizes, is that “if Poe was taken, Finn might have found him.”

Han’s eyes flash, preceding an easy smile. “I forgot that the kid’s following in Ezra’s footsteps.”

Leia clears her throat pointedly, bringing Han out of his temporary nostalgia. “Do we have instructions on next moves?”

There is a swoop of activity in the Force. Rey’s heart thuds in answer, and she only gets a reaction like that from-

“Finn?” Rey murmurs aloud.

Leia’s head turns sharply to Rey as she closes her eyes. “What about Finn? Do you sense him?”

“Yes,” Rey dives into the Force just in time to sense Finn dovetailing into the ground, and she shoots out of the chair, “he’s on the planet somewhere. Hurt.”

As if confirming her suspicions, phantom pain blooms in aches around Rey’s body. Nothing detrimental, but worrisome nonetheless.

“Well,” Leia rises from her seat, “I’m bored enough to look around with you.”

“Uh,” Han holds up his hands, “I don’t really think that’s a-”

The unbridled fire in Leia’s eyes causes him to stumble into the cockpit doorway. He sighs and offers her a commlink.

“Be careful,” Han warns as Rey follows Leia, “there’s a lot of criminals crawling around.”

-

Rey and Leia venture to the markets connected to the spaceport. Rey senses something in the Force by the sand dunes, so she pauses to turn eastward. She squints, making out two shimmering figures atop a hill. Listening to the zoom and crack of two familiar weapons, she gasps.

Are those...lightsabers?

Rey steps away from the steel grates acting as floorboards, Leia asking, “what do you see, Rey?”

She continues onwards, boots sinking into the sand as she walks. When she can indeed confirm that she is watching a lightsaber duel, Leia clamps on her shoulder. Rey’s eyes tear to her expression.

“Are you having a vision or something?” Leia inquires. “What are you looking at?”

“Or something,” Rey mutters as an answer to the primary question. “There’s a...a duel.”

“What?” Leia scoffs. “There’s nothing over there.”

Rey turns back to the sand dunes. The duel is ongoing, and she squints her eyes to make out more details. One man is in armor with a dark blade of some kind. The other man is wearing orange and fighting with a lightsaber staff.

But not just any lightsaber staff.

She sucks in a breath, her heart beating to confirm the memory she was viewing.

“Papa,” she says numbly.

As the phrase falls from her mouth, Papa’s opponent tumbles down the sand dune and out of view. Papa’s blades twirl in a deadly X as he swoops them down and shuts them off. He was the victor.

And the vision shimmers out of existence, a heat wave causing Rey’s focus to blur.

She lowers her head and blinks, sighing at the sand. What Papa said was true; his powers fully passed onto her.

Rey frowns at Leia. “Never mind,” she mumbles, “we have to find-”

“There!” Leia gasps, pointing a half-mile away from where Rey was looking. A man clad in broken stormtrooper pads was clunking towards the markets.

When Rey registers who it is, her breath catches in her throat.

“Finn!” Rey exclaims, clodding through the thick sand and embracing the laughing man as he approaches.

“Rey!” Finn holds her tightly. “I thought I sensed you!”

Rey peers down at Finn. He is sweaty and tired, obviously having walked for miles searching for a spaceport. He wears the black clothing required of stormtroopers and a tan-maroon jacket that belongs to Poe.

“What happened?” Rey guides Finn under an awning, where Leia offers him a smile in greeting.

A pedestrian passes by a little too close. Finn lowers his voice to be safe. “I escaped Starkiller base with Poe. The only problem is,” Finn hesitates around Leia, “Ben shot us down and our ship split in two. I have no idea where Poe is!”

“Kriff!” Rey expresses.

“But,” Finn shoves a hand in the jacket pocket and pulls out a data stick, “I found this in his jacket.”

Rey studies the glimmering metal, noting the red dash across the surface. “This looks very important.” She asks Leia, “have you seen this design before?”

Leia shuffles closer and looks, eyes widening. “It’s great that you found that. Holy kriff!”

“What?” Rey prompts.

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘black box’?”

Rey shakes her head, but Finn says, “is that the thing where pilots have top secret information on it?”

“Basically,” Leia shrugs, “yes. This is Poe’s black box. Or data stick, rather. If this fell into the First Order’s hands, it would be all over.”

Rey receives a chill amidst the heat. It is terrifying to imagine a pocket-sized piece of metal being important enough to destroy the galaxy.

Leia pats Finn’s shoulder. “Good job retrieving that from the wreckage. We need to get that back to base.”

“We need to find Poe too,” Finn chirps.

“Han can contact someone at the Falcon,” Leia says, “we’ll find out what happened.”

Finn eagerly follows Rey and Leia back to the Falcon.

-

It takes a teeth-clenching half hour for Han to patch the Falcon through to a neutral courier vessel. When Poe’s voice comes through, they sigh in relief.

“Poe!” Finn’s entire being lights up. “I’m glad you’re okay!”

“Finn!” Poe laughs, relief in every octave. “I’m glad you’re okay too! I’ve been super worried!”

“You’ve been worried?” Finn makes a ‘psh’ sound. “I’ve been worried!”

Rey places her hand on her mouth. She holds back a giggle.

Oh, this is rich.

“What a day it’s been,” Poe muses, “I can’t wait to get back to base. Are you en route?”

Finn hums; their starships are about a standard hour apart from each other. Rey figures Poe will arrive before the Falcon.

“Hey, um,” Poe asks hesitantly, “did you find-”

“In your jacket?” Finn is careful not to elaborate. “Yeah. I got it.”

Poe sighs in repose. “You’re a lifesaver, Finn. I don’t know what I would’ve done to stay away from Luke getting pissed at me.”

“Luke? Pissed? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ha ha. I’ll see you all soon, alright? I need to check up on everybody.”

“Alright,” Finn beams, “I’ll see you.”

When Rey shuts off the commlink, she arches a brow at Finn. Chewbacca roars something that causes Han and Leia to snicker. 

Finn blinks at Rey, his expression inscrutable. “Be quiet.”

Rey smirks, biting on her lip to prevent laughter. The fact that Finn knows exactly what she refers to is an interesting sign.

Finn looks away from his audience and huffs, “I guess I’ll check on Threepio.”

When he moves to the back of the Falcon, Rey shares a look with the three elders at the booth.

“Man,” Han says, “seeing your parents’ faces is going to be something.”

Rey nods in agreement.

————

Poe enters the strategy room on Home One with traces of blood and dirt on his clothes. He didn’t have the strength on the shuttle to look into a mirror and fix his appearance. 

It’s been a long and trying day. He didn’t feel like having a conversation about it.

But based on all the sideways looks Poe received, it was a conversation he couldn’t avoid.

Nevertheless, Poe went to the communication station and nudged James. “Can I borrow that, please?”

James observes Poe with concerned eyes, the question begging to be asked remaining unvoiced. He rises from his seat and stands anyway, arms crossed as Poe sits.

It doesn’t help that James and Finn look so similar to each other…

Poe garners immediate attention, several bodies approaching him. He focuses on the screen and dials on the starship tracker. He keys in the Falcon’s code and waits a moment.

“Honey?” His mother’s voice is followed by a touch on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” Poe regards his concerned mother, careful not to meet her eyes, “of course.”

“You look terrible,” Ezra says from behind the monitor, “whose blood is that?”

“Uh,” the tracker blinks, and Poe rushes out, “probably a mixture. I’m fine though.”

The tracker indicates that the Falcon is less than an hour away. They would be back in time for the assault on Starkiller Base.

Poe glances between Luke and Ezra to note that the air strike clock is at two hours remaining. He clicks off the tracker function and rises from the seat. “Thanks James.” He brushes shoulders with the bald man and begins to walk. “I’m going to change into my flight suit.”

“Wait,” his father clips, “tell us what happened.”

Poe spins around and schools his expression. If he thinks too hard, he’ll remember being strapped to that metal apparatus and tortured by the helmeted monstrosity that used to be his cousin.

Poe decides to answer as if drawling a report from a mission. “We were attacked by the First Order. I was taken and tortured, but I told them nothing. Finn saved me and he’s on the Falcon.”

As if coming to the rescue, Beebee-Ate beeps and nudges Poe’s leg. He musters a smile at the rolling droid.

“Beebee needs to get analyzed for plan confirmation,” Poe says, “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

Poe is not interrupted again as he enters his shoebox quarters. The only perk of being a General and leader is that he doesn’t have to bunk with anyone else.

Poe peels off his dirty casual wear, tugging on light clothing and zipping up his orange jumpsuit. He runs a comb through his curls and shrugs at the windblown tangle. He washes his face and towels away any leftover blood. He secures the japor snippet around his neck and hides it beneath his undershirt. Feeling refreshed, Poe exits the room.

And bumps right into Jacen.

“Yoooo!” Jacen smacks Poe’s arm, all neon green hair, orange jumpsuit, and bright blue eyes. “I just heard about what happened! You okay, man?”

“Yeah,” Poe bobs his head as they walk companionably to the strategy room, “I’m fine, Jace.”

“Well, good,” Jacen beams, “did you notice my jumpsuit?”

“Yeah,” Poe says, “are you going out with us?”

“I am,” Jacen chimes, “and Mom’s letting me use the Phantom to back you up!”

At times when Jacen is so childlike and excited, Poe forgets they are only a standard month apart in age. 

“That’s cool,” Poe says breezily, the words not having their desired effect in brightening Jacen’s mood, “really cool.”

Jacen frowns, his entire expression dampening. “I guess I’ll see you out there, right?”

“Yes,” Poe clips as they enter the strategy room, “may the Force be with you.”

Despite Jacen’s concern, he murmurs, “and with you, Poe.”

Jacen exits, and Poe cannot bring himself to ask after his cousin. He has other priorities.

————

Reuniting with Poe was like seeing a purrgil for the first time. Finn was filled with such wonder and relief that he was a visceral being, flesh and blood and burning cheeks.

It takes a single heartbeat for Finn to start running. He eats up air like it is nothing to him, like he can only stand to see one thing, one being that he thought was dead before he heard the man’s voice, emitting such brightness that Finn didn’t know what to do with himself.

All Finn knows is that he is running, and he will run towards Poe Dameron any day if it meant receiving that smile.

The crowds loading up their starships for the assault against Starkiller base bleed away, Finn moving thoughtlessly to maneuver around the ebb and flow of activity.

He picks out Poe in the sea of orange. Poe sees him and freezes, whipping off his helmet and grinning, grinning, grinning.

Finn barely slows his descent when hugging Poe, and he stumbles while laughing. Poe drops his helmet with a clop against the concrete but doesn’t seem to care as their arms wrap around each other tightly.

“Finn,” Poe chuckles, “hey, Finn.”

And when Finn pulls back from the hug, studying the sweetness and contentment in Poe’s face, in his warm eyes, in his curved smile, the innocence and genuine spirit and awestruck appreciation directed towards him, towards Finn, he felt something inside him mold and align with Poe, something new and bold and beautiful that Finn didn’t know he needed but it’s something that he’s been waiting for his entire existence.

Maybe he can stand to look in a mirror after all...

Finn swallows the lump in his throat, blinking away tears prickling in his eyes. He smiles with his whole body and soul.

“Hey Poe,” Finn sticks a hand in the jacket pocket and retrieves the data stick, “I believe you forgot this?”

Poe’s fingers brush Finn’s as he takes the data stick. Their embrace is broken, but they remain close, Finn able to register the golden tint to Poe’s skin, the stubble in his pores and the depths of his soulful gaze. “Thank you, Finn!”

Sheepishly, Finn rushes out, “did you want your jacket back? I can give it to you right now if you want.”

Poe blinks as if just realizing Finn is wearing it. “Oh,” he stuffs the data stick in his jumpsuit, “no, I don’t want it back. It, uh,” Poe flushes, eyes flickering down and up, “it suits you. Keep it.”

The signals in that statement alone...Finn is emboldened to stand taller.

“Poe?” Finn murmurs.

“Mhm?” Poe awaits Finn’s words with an endearing eagerness.

“Being your friend this past year,” Finn says, “has been really awesome.”

“Yeah,” Poe smiles appreciatively, “I think you’re pretty awesome too.”

Now Finn is literally on fire inside. 

“I just,” Finn clears his throat, “I just want to put something out there, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Poe’s eyes dance with possibility, “what’s up?”

“When we get back,” Finn clenches his fists in jacket pockets for courage, “I wouldn’t be opposed to a kiss.”

Finn watches Poe carefully. He blinks once, his brown eyes softening and delivering an electric shock to his systems, his mouth slackening into a parted slow exhale, in disbelief as he blinks a second time.

“Wait,” Poe breathes, “I didn’t hear that wrong, did I? I’m dreaming, right? I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming.”

Finn laughs, relieved that his declaration worked. It was a fifty-fifty chance that scared him but delighted him at the same time.

“You’re not dreaming, Poe,” Finn says amusedly, “now go on. You’ve got somewhere to be, don’t you?”

“R-right!” Poe regains his faculties and chuckles shyly. “Yes, I have...I have to, like, lead. I have to lead now.” He snickers at himself. “Did you do this to me right now on purpose, Finn Organa-Bridger?”

Finn shakes his head, unable to conceal his massive smile. “Come on. Get it done so you can get back here, alright?”

“Yes,” Poe nods, “yes, okay.” His eyes become determined. “I’ll see you very soon.”

Finn promises he will and Poe blushes again. He turns around and meets Jessika’s eyes. Finn watches Poe jog over to his Black Squadron and climb into his X-wing, Beebee-Ate in tow.

————

“What,” Jacen beams mischievously as Poe climbs the X-wing, “in the stars was that?!”

Poe rolls his eyes and pops on his helmet. “Shut up, Jace. Get in your ship.”

Jacen points at Poe as if accusing him of something. “You’re telling me everything, you sly piece of bantha shit.”

“Not likely,” Poe mutters to himself as Jacen stalks away to the Phantom.

————

As the Falcon touches down on the Starkiller base surface, Rey announces, “Ben’s in there.”

Finn’s brow arches. “Now who’s happy I decided to come with you?”

“You just need a distraction from worrying about your new boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend.”

“But he’s gonna be after you smooch him.”

Finn makes a ‘psh’ sound. 

The siblings are interrupted by Han and Chewbacca exiting the cockpit.

“Neither of you better do anything stupid,” Han points between the two of them, “I don’t feel like dealing with your parents today.”

Chewbacca roars in resounding agreement.

“Fine,” Rey replies as the Falcon ramp retracts and emits steam, “we don’t plan on it.”

“Hey.”

Rey turns around as the snow hits her beige robes.

“If you see him,” Han says, “tell him...oh, never mind. Try not to hurt him, okay?”

Rey doesn’t think she could hurt Ben. She nods and Finn, who won’t take off that damned jacket, follows her down the ramp. Both have their lightsabers attached to their belts.

They climb the outer walls with the only issue being the icy winds tickling their skin. Rey helps pull Finn up to enter Starkiller base. It was their job to shut down the shields so that the starfighters could penetrate the base.

They use the Force to cloak themselves as they climb inside the base. The layout was exactly as the plans retrieved by Finn and Beebee-Ate showed.

They reach the security room with no missteps. Rey nudges Finn to press the right buttons, as it was Finn who spent weeks studying the base interior.

As Finn completes the sequence, the shields falling apart, the warnings blare.

They only make it down the hallway before a familiar hooded figure stands in front of an exit.

“Rey,” the vocoder booms, “Finn. I’ve been expecting you for quite some time.”

Shouts from around base, soldiers rushing to their battle stations, are echoes compared to the violent Force presence before them. 

“I have to say,” Kylo steps forward once, silent as a shadow, helmet glinting silver and black, “I’m disappointed. Where’s the spectacle? The gravitas? The bravery?”

Finn advances forward, one hand on his lightsaber hilt. “Quit it, Ben,” Finn hisses, “you’re not impressing anyone.”

“My name,” the hallway behind them narrows, the very marble structure crushed in cracks as if pinching the edge of a nerve ending, “is Kylo Ren.”

Finn stares with wide eyes at the display of power and strength. Rey takes the opportunity to walk, not stopping until they are a foot apart. She used to be taller than everyone, but now, he is taller than her.

Refusing to tip her head up, she frowns at him. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

Kylo Ren nudges his mask, causing the exit door behind him to slide open. Icy wind and blurry dusk curls around his shadowy figure.

“No,” he almost laughs, “but this will.”

He spreads out his arms, tipping away with immense ceremony. Kylo falls backwards and down into the miles and miles of wintry forest beneath them.

The invitation is clear. Rey is never one to cower from a fight.

She turns sharply to Finn. “Get back to the Falcon. I’ll distract him.”

Finn bobs his head and makes his descent from the side of the base. Rey expected him to protest, but his compliance calms her.

After checking on Finn one last time, Rey unclips her double-sided lightsaber and plunges into the forest.

As the thin ice stabs her body like needles, Rey uses the Force to land smoothly on the forest floor. 

Kylo waits for her, the bare trees swaying in his favor. He ignites his lightsaber, and Rey gulps at the bleeding red blades.

Rey ignites her orange-green blades, using the Force to combat nature as she advances. 

Their lightsabers clash so forcefully that the trees bend as if buffeted by an explosion.

Rey matches Kylo’s hurried but precise lightsaber forms. The ground grumbles, and her instincts prevent her from tipping over jagged edges.

Eventually, a falling tree separates them momentarily. Snow gathers between them, and Rey takes advantage by leaping high and arching her blade diagonally.

When she crashes back to the ground, Kylo stumbles and falls with the strength of her hit.

Kylo laughs through his vocoder as Rey gains her footing and springs back, circling him as he rises again.

“We would be unstoppable together, Rey,” Kylo hisses, “we could rule the galaxy with our combined abilities.”

Rey swoops the blazing lightsaber between her fingers, and it makes a semicircle around her pacing body.

“Your parents miss you,” Rey says, “it’s not too late to come home.”

Kylo’s voice is cruel. “I never had parents. I never had a home.”

Kylo growls and leaps forward with his lightsaber. The unforeseen move has Rey stumbling back and bracing her feet against the edge of a cliff. Her head spins with dizziness at the close proximity.

“REYYYYY!”

Rey glances up just in time to see Finn landing from atop a tree and bringing his clear lightsaber down on Kylo. Rey exhales in shock but uses the room to dive sideways and twist upright again.

Finn holds Kylo down with his body and his lightsaber, gritting his teeth and concentrating.

Rey is impressed, but Kylo makes a sharp move that happens in slow motion.

With one of his side blades, Kylo burns Finn’s hand. Finn yelps, giving Kylo just enough room to Force push Finn back.

Hard.

Finn flies directly into a thick tree trunk behind them. It happens so quickly that he has no time to break his fall. 

His back slams against the tree trunk and he rolls onto the snow, completely unconscious.

“FIIIINNNNN!” Rey yells, forgetting the battle entirely as she struggles through the snow. 

Ice bites her skin where tears should have collected and fallen. She scrapes her knees as she sits beside Finn and presses two fingers to his forehead.

The amount of pain he is in is something Rey cannot fathom.

When she whirls back around, eyes stinging, Kylo’s shuttle transports him off the planet.

Rey’s breath congeals in the air as she exhales, her entire body screaming in despair as the shuttle zips into lightspeed.

As if hearing her call, the Falcon hovers around the crumbling forest, creating a light in the dusk.

Chewbacca growls from the retracted ramp. The piercing tone livens Rey. She uses the Force to lift Finn into her arms and leap onto the ramp. Chewbacca takes Finn from her as the ramp closes and Rey is greeted with artificial light.

-

Rey does not leave Finn’s side as he is made comfortable in his comatose state at the Home One medbay.

“Hey, kid,” Doctor Aphra assures, “your bro’s tough. He’s going to fight his way back to you, alright?”

Rey cannot bring herself to answer, or ask how the woman became so optimistic all of a sudden.

Her Dad and Papa hold her as they stay in the room, whispering that it wasn’t her fault and that she did a great job.

Starkiller Base may have been destroyed, but none of that mattered now. Watching Poe’s expression change as Finn clings to life hurt Rey more than witnessing her brother’s bones get crushed.

Nevertheless, everyone on base stands by them. Stands by all of them while they wait.

And Rey would wait. And wait.


	15. Age 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn does not know how much time he spends within the Living Force, but he has been battling the shadows for so long that he can sense them anywhere.
> 
> He awoke in a completely white room with corporeal Jedi standing over him. The being that Finn instantly fixates on is a young man around his age. 
> 
> ‘Uhhh,’ the man kneels beside him on the ground, ‘hi? How did you get here?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back-to-back chapters? Insanity!
> 
> Shout out to Alwaysandalso and admirabletragedy for being great friends and giving me ideas for this chapter. Go read their Skybridger fics!

Finn does not know how much time he spends within the Living Force, but he has been battling the shadows for so long that he can sense them anywhere.

He awoke in a completely white room with corporeal Jedi standing over him. The being that Finn instantly fixates on is a young man around his age. 

‘Uhhh,’ the man kneels beside him on the ground, ‘hi? How did you get here?’

Finn struggles to place his palms on a flat surface and sits up. He crosses his legs as if in meditation and notes the diverse crowd of beings watching him.

‘You look familiar,’ Finn murmurs.

The man blinks. ‘Do I?’

Finn studies the man’s wavy brown-blonde hair dusting his black-robed shoulders, the sharpness to his features, the bright blue of his eyes.

It clicks, and his eyes widen. ‘Are you Anakin Skywalker?’

The man smiles crookedly and sheepishly. ‘Yes. Hello! And you are?’

Finn catalogues the similarities between Anakin, Luke, Leia, and Rey. Same ferocity, same eyes, same defiance. Their relation is uncanny.

‘Finn,’ he says, ‘uh, Finn Organa-Bridger. I’m adopted.’

Anakin beams over at a man with a ginger beard, who strokes it between his fingers and rolls his eyes. ‘See, Obi-Wan? More grandchildren!’ Anakin directs his elation to Finn. ‘I’m so happy to meet you! How’s Rey and my children?’

‘Uh,’ Finn blinks, ‘not good?’

Anakin’s entire body sinks. ‘Oh.’

Should Finn feel bad for making a former Dark Lord look defeated? He wasn’t sure.

‘Did the war start?’ A Mirialan woman asks.

Finn nods. ‘It’s been...about two or three years now? Yeah.’

‘I’ve been trying for years to contact one of my children,’ Anakin says in dejection, ‘but I suppose you can help us.’

Finn furrows his brows. ‘Help you?’

The bearded man glides over in his beige robes and kneels on the opposite side of Finn. His voice has an interesting lilt that indicates he is from a core world.

‘We need help from the outside in order to hold back Snoke’s infiltrations,’ Obi-Wan says. ‘He’s trying to destroy our auras forever. He wants our wisdom to be erased from the galaxy. He sends his dead followers after us.’

‘That sounds freaky.’

‘It is,’ Anakin bobs his head in agreement, ‘and we need help from someone alive.’

Finn does not have much of a choice. He was here, and obviously was going to stay here for a while. Even though he has no idea what’s happening, if Rey was okay and if Ben was fighting her and if Poe destroyed Starkiller base, he knows he isn’t gone forever. If anything, he is comatose. 

Considering this has happened to Rey before, Finn isn’t too worried.

‘Okay,’ Finn says, ‘what do I do?’

Since then, Finn has learned to travel in a corporeal state and materialize an echo of his lightsaber to fight dead Sith Lords. The worst to kill, by far, is General Grievous. Those kriffing robotic arms are terrible.

Finn has made some corporeal friends, as well. Shaak, Luminara, and Aayla were an awesome team. Kit and Ki-Adi-Mundi were hilarious when they bickered. Plo was as wonderful as Ahsoka promised. Finn stuck around Mace, Adi, and Barriss most often, as they had developed a rapport. They helped Finn not linger too much about what went on in the outside world.

The scattered remains of the Lothal Temple, which was slowly being restored, was their battleground as former Sith Lords attacked them. Finn was doing his best to erase them before they could erase the Jedi.

After Finn stabs his echo lightsaber through the Grand Inquisitor, several Force presences enter the Temple archive hallway.

When Finn looks directly into Rey’s eyes, he freezes.

————

Rey has never boarded the Ghost before. She has never even been on a mission with the infamous freighter’s crew. 

She has also never been on an expedition to retrieve data from the Lothal Temple. She avoided going back to the conical structure that was a physical manifestation of her shame for years. Ahsoka and Kanan frequented the structure, as did a lot of the trainees scattered across Resistance bases in the galaxy. Shira enjoyed revisiting the Temple the most, as she had the ability to unearth what was hidden in the Force.

Rey’s expedition group consisted of Ahsoka and Kanan as guides, Shira as the retriever of information, Jacen as lookout, and Rey as a tag-along helper. Hera, Sabine, Zeb, and Chopper would guard the Ghost and study the area for any danger. 

As Rey traversed throughout the freighter, she caught several of Sabine’s murals on available wall space. A few had a younger Papa in them, as if she painted family portraits as they grew up together. One mural was of Papa surrounded by an army of Loth-wolves and Loth-cats; Rey is used to seeing animals flocking to her Papa’s inviting Force presence, as she had a similar affinity to tamer creatures. 

And one mural captured Rey’s interest more than the others combined. 

It was of her parents in a dense forest surrounded by a blotchy wave of beings. Her Dad was lying on a flower patch, clad in black and bleary eyes open. The harsh clothing contrasts with the sunrise colors around the deep green trees. 

And above her Dad is Papa, flushed and clad in beige, wildflowers braided into his thick black hair. Papa is so close to Dad that she figures they had kissed, and were merely looking at each other as if they had been through an unfathomable ordeal.

Below the vivid mural, Sabine had written in golden spray paint: “The End.”

Rey spends a very long time studying this mural, drawn to it inexplicably. She makes out some of the paint blots to be Leia in black, Ahsoka in red, Sabine herself in bright Mandalorian armor and Lando in a powder blue cape.

She is broken from her trance by the freighter jolting as it enters Lothal’s orbit. She walks to the booth where the rest of the expedition team is gathered.

The last time she had been on an expedition, she was marooned on a desert planet in the past. She hopes that this trip will turn out better than the last.

Rey straps into her seat wordlessly and waits for Hera and Jacen to land them near the Temple safely. She receives an uneasy look from Zeb and complete clarity from Ahsoka and Shira.

When the shaking stops and they land, a newly-mohawked Sabine nudges her arm. “You okay, Rey?”

Rey bobs her head, removing the straps and standing.

“You found the mural,” Sabine says smugly, “didn’t you?”

Rey purses her lips, but that is enough of an answer. She focuses on securing her lightsaber and brown robes. 

Jacen prompts, “you mean the mural of Rey’s parents making out that I’ve had to look at for the majority of my life?”

“Jacen,” Kanan sighs, “the mural is important to Sabine.”

“Why, exactly?” Jacen furrows his brows as he shoulders his pack and helps Kanan stand.

Sabine rolls her eyes, loading up her sniper rifle. “Because Jace, for sake of sounding like a romantic,” she pretends to vomit for a beat, “I wanted to show that love is what everyone fought for in the war.”

“That’s beautiful,” Shira chimes, offering Sabine a genuine smile, “I really like that.”

“Thank you,” Sabine huffs.

Hera enters from the cockpit. “The ramp’s ready.” She scowls at Kanan and Jacen. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Jacen gapes. “Wow, Mom. Thanks for that vote of confidence!”

Hera moves over to pat Rey’s cheek affectionately. “You look out for them, alright?”

“I will,” Rey murmurs.

Ahsoka and Shira lead the way into the Lothal Temple, their respective montrals dusting their upper backs. Rey interlocks her arm with Kanan’s as they walk in the middle, Jacen bringing up the rear. Rey catches sight of Sabine atop the Ghost with her sniper, scoping out enemy troops or starfighters. Zeb took a similar stance on the ground, Hera remaining inside the vessel armed with a blaster rifle and thermal detonators. 

Rey takes in the conical structure, how it doesn’t look like it had nearly been burned down. Holes were patched up for the most part. Only scuff marks from the smoke provide evidence of the fire.

As they enter the Temple, a pack of Loth-wolves and Loth-cats stream in after them. The domesticated creatures used to take shelter in the foyer, snoozing near the support structures and padding about the marble tile. They retreated from the Temple due to the fire, and were recently returning to their safe haven. The Loth-wolves trot near Ahsoka and Kanan while the influx of excited Loth-cats bounce near Rey, Shira, and Jacen.

Rey finds herself smiling genuinely for the first time in months. A particularly enthusiastic Loth-cat that perches on her boots and balances while she walks garners Rey’s attention. She pauses with Kanan to offer her free arm to the creature. She cups her palm and chuckles as the cat shrinks itself into a ball of big-eyed fluff and climbs in her hand. Rey continues onwards as the Loth-cat settles and she holds that arm close to her heart.

As they reach the archives, the animals scatter to traipse around the main chambers. Ahsoka and Shira part inside the glorified library, unstrapping their empty packs. Physical books had to be packed away while data had to be uploaded to fresh data sticks.

Kanan breaks away with a whispered thanks, plodding over to help the Togruta and Twi’lek by the floor-to-ceiling shelves. Rey turns around as Jacen emits an echoing hum.

“What?” Rey prompts, the Loth-cat’s ear perking to the side, swiveling towards Jacen.

Jacen surveys the archives and says, “I’m getting a weird feeling.”

“Not bad?” Rey furrows her brows as the Loth-cat lets out a contemplative ‘mrow.’

“Weird,” Jacen emphasizes, narrowing his eyes at the Loth-cat. “Do you know what I’m talking about, bud?”

The cat emits a louder ‘mrow’ and hops out of Rey’s palm. Curious, Rey kneels as the Loth-cat advances towards the door Jacen closed. Jacen turns and watches as the Loth-cat scratches once at the door.

“Huh,” Jacen pads over quietly so as not to startle the creature, “want me to open this?”

‘Mrow,’ the Loth-cat answers.

Jacen glances at Rey in invitation. Rey shrugs in acceptance.

Ensuring the trio was busy with the archives, Jacen creaks open the door. He pops his head in both directions and turns towards Rey.

“Don’t see anything,” Jacen reports.

“Let me see,” Rey decides.

Rey trots forward as the Loth-cat squeezes through the opening and sits facing eastward. 

Rey slips through the door with Jacen watching her back. She squints at the empty hallway the Loth-cat is fascinated by. Is something there that she couldn’t see?

In answer to her question, the Loth-cat emits a ‘mrow.’

A corporeal scene paints itself in the space of the empty hallway. A shimmering expanse of blue engaged in a lightsaber battle.

Rey moves to stand beside the cat and examines the corporeal images as they become clearer. Jacen, as well, stands in the doorway and stares in anticipation.

One expanse of blue, when it is focused on, becomes a tall bald figure clad in face paint and dark clothing. He wields a double-sided lightsaber with a circular apparatus to mess with the settings.

The figure, clearly a Darksider, bears his weight on his opponent, a Jedi matching him beat-for-beat so effectively that it takes longer to make out his features.

When Rey does, she gasps so loud that her voice echoes throughout the hallway.

As the sound reverberates, Finn uses his lightsaber to slice the Darksider’s in half. 

Taking full advantage of the shock, Finn shoves his lightsaber directly into the Darksider’s chest.

Rey gapes as the man disappears like he never existed in the universe.

And Finn collapses his lightsaber, staring at Rey with wide eyes.

————

Every night after his twelve-hour day shift, no matter how long and arduous it becomes, Poe sits in the medbay with Finn.

Rather than linger on the morbidity of sitting beside a comatose body, Poe finds solace in knowing that Finn was right there, heart beating and breaths shallow, ready and waiting to awaken when it was time.

Poe wrote his reports and caught up on his messages while in an uncomfortable chair, glancing at Finn for any changes every few minutes. He did this every evening without fail, since the majority of Finn’s visitors left after dinner.

As Poe finishes responding to Home Two’s steady progress, the door hisses open. Without looking, Poe knows it is Ezra as his older brother figure sits beside him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Ezra quips.

Poe clicks off his datapad and schools his expression. Ezra and Luke were oblivious to Poe’s attraction to Finn. Poe would have expected Jacen or even a mischievous Rey to spread the information throughout Home One, but Finn’s current state was placed above humdrum gossip.

“Do you come here a lot?” Ezra wonders aloud. “I’ve noticed that I don’t see you after dinner.”

Poe answers measuredly, “it’s quiet here.”

“Right,” Ezra frowns beneath his thick beard, “I suppose it is.”

Poe looks down at his blank datapad and wishes something could distract him from the pauses, the sudden lapses in conversation. He hasn’t spoken to the Jedi that was practically his older brother in so long it felt like a lifetime had passed.

“You’ve been,” Ezra pulls up his legs in a childish gesture against his chest, “you’ve been distant for a while now. Your parents are concerned, but they don’t want to upset you by approaching you about it.”

“So you decided to barrel in here and ask me anyway?” Poe asks, eyes snapping over to ensure Finn’s heart monitor was steady for a concerned beat before moving back to his lap.

“What’s wrong, Poe?” Ezra says in his serious voice, which only makes an appearance on special occasions, such as funerals and stern parenting moments.

“Isn’t it clear?”

Their heads snap over to the door as Luke enters. He is ageless as he kneels between both chairs. His pomegranate clothing makes the silver in his hair prominent, eyes sparkling as his dimples deepen.

He arches a brow to tease Ezra. “Aren’t you meant to be the perceptive one?”

Ezra pinches his thick brows together, his beard twitching with his lips. Luke’s attention swerves to Poe himself, hearing aid trained on his voice.

“Now, be honest,” Luke’s lips curl into a kind smile, “I’m not going to bite your head off.” 

He pauses, eyes darting to Ezra, dramatizing his query. 

“Poe,” Luke asks him, “are you in love with Finn?”

“What?” Ezra bats his lashes, lurching whilst studying Poe’s profile. “What!”

“You’re not helping,” Luke says, effectively silencing Ezra.

Ezra sinks into his chair. 

“Do you?” Luke asks Poe again.

Poe purses his lips in thought. Love seemed like a very strong word, one not meant to be taken lightly. 

And yet...Poe feels it. He knows it to be true. His heart skips for Finn’s smile. His blood boils for Finn’s selfless declarations. Poe is himself when Finn is with him. Not the Commander of Black Squadron, not a General, not a leader of the Resistance.

With Finn, he is just Poe Dameron, a lovelorn man who wants, more than anything, to be with Finn in any and all capacities that Finn would allow. 

Poe is no better than a baby under these circumstances, having never pursued happiness in another’s arms. It will not stop him from learning and growing with Finn should he receive permission to close the distance.

Having been silent for a moment, Luke and Ezra refusing to rush him, Poe replies a resounding, “yes.”

To Poe’s unending surprise, Luke grins and rises from his crouch. “Well, good! I’m glad!”

“Me too,” Ezra bobs his head, smiling at Poe, “Finn will wake up for that. I’m sure of it.”

“Uh,” Poe asks dumbly, “why are you being nice about this?”

As if expecting the question, Ezra stands and wraps his arms around Luke’s waist. Luke smiles up at Ezra as he tips his head down. Their wedding rings flash in the medbay lights.

“Because,” Ezra’s dark blue eyes glimmer with delirious happiness, “we both know how important love is in war. If we didn’t have each other,” Poe wants to make a gagging noise as Luke studies Ezra with intense adoration, “we would have lost ourselves in the process.”

“You need a homing beacon,” Luke adds, nudging his head in Finn’s direction, “and you’ve got one right here. Be good to him, Poe.”

“I-I will,” Poe says weakly, “now can you stop being gross, please?”

Ezra and Luke laugh at each other, leaving Poe to his work alongside Finn.

————

Rey’s heart stops and restarts. “Finn?” She breathes in disbelief.

Finn holds up a hand to wave awkwardly. “Hi Rey.”

“What,” Rey steps forward, “how are you here?”

“Well,” Finn shrugs, “it’s hard to explain.”

“Dude,” Jacen steps away from the archive library door, “are you dead or something?”

Finn bristles at Jacen’s appearance; he must not have seen the man standing by the doorway. “No, I’m not dead. Just...split.”

“Split how?” Rey advances, studying her brother’s corporeal form.

“Oh!” Jacen narrows his eyes as if examining Finn. “His aura and body are separated!” Jacen concludes.

“Yup,” Finn nods, “but I’m fine! Promise! I’ve been helping the ghosts take out some Sith Lords and it’s been really-”

“Wait,” Jacen holds up a hand, “back up. Sith Lords?!”

“Yeah,” Finn says, “they’re around too. They suck so much! So annoying!”

“Not to go against what you’re doing or anything,” Rey cuts in, “but do you ever plan on coming back home?”

Finn reads the melancholy that seeps through Rey’s entire body. His shoulders sag and he moves to stand closer to Rey.

“I’ll come back,” Finn vows, “of course. I just need help to do it.”

“Okay,” Rey says decisively, “what should we do?”

“What,” Ahsoka’s voice hisses behind them, “in the stars am I looking at right now?”

Finn beams as Rey’s head swivels to regard Ahsoka, Kanan, and Shira carrying bags containing archival information.

“Hi, Ahsoka!” Finn chimes.

Ahsoka drops her backpack, advancing to stand beside Rey with crossed arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uhhhhh,” Finn motions vaguely behind him, “erasing Sith Lords. What are you doing?”

“Erasing,” Ahsoka sounds out the syllables, “Sith Lords?”

“Uh huh,” Finn confirms, “and Anakin says hi!”

Ahsoka’s entire body stiffens. “What?”

“I see them,” Kanan says.

“What?!” Ahsoka exclaims to the blind man.

“I’ll help,” Finn chirps.

Rey’s surroundings, lit by gold and shadows, are suddenly enveloped by an expanse of white. It happens as quickly as turning on a lamp light.

Amidst the white, a solidified Finn is at the epicenter of a massive crowd. Beings of all races wore various forms of robes and had a lightsaber hilt strapped to their belts.

“Okay,” Shira blinks, “cool.”

Finn motions to the beings around him. “These are Jedi ghosts!”

“Uh,” Kanan steps forward in a daze, “Jacen?”

“Dad?” Jacen trots confusedly over to him, peering over the man’s side. “What’s go-”

Jacen’s eyes widen. He inhales sharply, pupils darting across Kanan’s face.

“Dad,” Jacen whispers, “can you see me?”

Kanan exhales and nods slowly. While the man doesn’t get extremely emotional with his old age, he sniffles as if holding back tears.

Kanan cups one side of Jacen’s face. Rey barely breathes as he says, “your mother’s right. You do look like me.” He ruffles Jacen’s green hair. “Except for that.”

Jacen’s smile wobbles. He looks ready to say something, Kanan’s eyes parallel blue rather than milky, but Kanan tugs Jacen into a hug.

Rey smiles as they have a moment. No one seeks to break it until they have arms around each other’s shoulders. Kanan takes in everyone there, mouthing ‘Depa’ to a Chalactan woman, who smiles warmly in return. Kanan pauses when viewing Shira, Finn, and Rey for the first time as well. They offer him waves and disbelieving chuckles.

“As wonderful as this is,” a bearded man with a lilt steps forward, “I’m afraid you can’t stay this way, Kanan Jarrus.”

Kanan directs his attention to the man and nods once. “I understand, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Right! Rey remembers him now. The bearer of bad news.

Taking the prompt, Finn claps his hands together once and declares, “while it’s been great hanging out here, kicking ass and taking names, I need you to concentrate, Rey. You’re the strongest Force sensitive here. You can bring me back.”

“Wait,” Ahsoka wades into the crowd of Jedi, her watery gaze picking out a man and offering a hand, “stop hiding. Come out here, Skyguy.”

The man takes the hand and breaks away from the throng. He is sheepish as he grimaces at the Togruta.

It is Anakin.

“Hey Snips,” Anakin says as she releases his hand, scratching at his hair, “h-how are you?”

Ahsoka sends Anakin the worst stink eye Rey has ever seen.

“I hate you so much,” she says with feeling.

“I hate me too,” Anakin chimes matter-of-factly.

Ahsoka responds by strong-arming Anakin into a hug. Anakin does not complain when Ahsoka ends the quick embrace by punching his forearm.

“I’m glad you produced wonderful offspring,” Ahsoka says, “because if you didn’t, I would never speak to you again.”

Anakin musters a half-smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

Ahsoka turns away sharply and says to Finn, “okay, I’m ready to go.”

Kanan hugs Jacen one more time and murmurs something in the ear. Jacen nods and grins.

Finn holds out his hands, beckoning Rey. She goes to him.

As Rey’s hand closes around Finn’s, he says, “are you ready?”

Rey nods, closing her eyes. “Yes.”

-

Rey is bouncing in anticipation on the entire flight home to D’Qar. Attempts to placate her are quickly given up, as they are all on edge to figure out if Rey’s abilities worked to align Finn’s aura with his physical body.

When the Ghost ramp opens, Rey is already running across the hangar bay. She snakes around personnel who send her confused glances.

As she enters the base, a warmth settles in her chest, the answer to her longing question.

The medbay door opens with a dramatic whoosh, and Finn is there, propped up on his pillows and sucking down water slowly through a straw. 

At her entrance, Poe plucks away the water bottle from Finn. Her brother beams with golden brown eyes.

Rey rushes him in a single heartbeat and tosses herself on the bed. She wiggles around and Finn laughs as they embrace.

Her parents enter the picture, laughing as Finn murmurs to Rey, “you’re squeezing me too tight. Calm down.”

Rey rolls away from Finn, perching by his legs on the bedspread. “How are you feeling?”

“Meh,” Finn replies honestly. Dad and Papa move to each pat Finn’s shoulder. “I’ve been worse, though.”

Rey doesn’t miss the way Finn’s gaze glances towards Poe, who was standing a respectable space away from the family.

Noticing this, Papa declares, “I think it’s time for a family hug. Poe, get in here.”

A flushed Poe sets down Finn’s water near the medicine counter, ducking his head to avoid Finn’s tentative gaze.

So they hadn’t kissed yet...or had the chance to talk...they would soon enough.

Poe advances as Dad and Papa sling their arms around Finn. Rey scoots closer on Finn’s bed without jostling the blanket, wrapping her arms loosely around her brother and parents. Poe stands near Ezra’s side and wraps an arm around them. 

Finn chuckles, sandwiched in the middle, and mumbles, “this family is so silly.”

They laugh as if in agreement, but they linger in the family hug for a long moment.

It’s something that Rey hopes will never end.

————

Kylo double-locks his quarters before letting his mental shields down and lying on the bed. He sighs hopelessly; it is getting harder and harder to play pretend.

Earlier that day, Phasma escorted a handcuffed Shira May to his office, fresh from a mission gone sour. Kylo was so shocked at being unable to sense her that his mask tripped up for a millisecond.

Captain Phasma’s chrome mask tilts towards him as if in surprise. ‘We caught one of your little girlfriends stealing power cells for the Resistance. I leave her punishment up to you, my Lord.’

At that, Phasma straightens, chrome armor plates clapping together in her salute. Her blaster rifle remains diagonal as she sweeps out of the office, the door sliding closed behind her.

Shira narrows her eyes at him, binders clasping her wrists against her brown armor. She is undeterred as she says fiercely, ‘I’ll never tell you anything, Ben!’

Ben, whose eyes have been lifted from his datapad, releases the flimsi in his gloved fingers. The metal pen clicks against the onyx desk surface as he regards her with an arched brow.

His free hand raises to open a side drawer. Ben had programmed a mechanism to mask security cameras and cause bugged microphones to turn to static for several minutes.

Ben flicks on the switch in his drawer. He waits a beat, his gaze lingering on Shira.

His tone is careful and measured when he speaks. ‘There is a series of escape pods that are left unguarded meant for high admiralty. They are to the east of our position. Make two rights and enter the first door to your left. Go.’

Shira’s eyes flicker with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Her lips quiver as she says, ‘no.’

‘Yes,’ Ben says calmly, ‘you have a window of opportunity. Take it.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Shira’s mouth forms into a pout, her red montrals brushing against her shoulders as she shakes her head, ‘why are you letting me go?’

‘Tell no one,’ Ben emphasizes each syllable, ‘tell no one I let you go. Now go.’

Shira glares at him. ‘What you’re doing isn’t smart, Ben. It will get you nothing but dead. Come home.’

‘I can’t,’ Ben implores, ‘I have a game to win. Now go, please, before that window shuts.’

Ben uses the Force to override the binders. They clunk on the hard marble floor.

Shira purses her lips and nods. ‘You hurt Finn. You hurt him bad. But you know what? I won’t forget what you did for me, Ben.’

‘Three minutes,’ Ben reports.

An edged smile graces her heart-shaped face. Her montrals swing as she exits the office and turns east. Ben ensures that the security cameras and personnel stay out of her way as she escapes in a pod. 

Kylo covers his tracks adequately and has a screaming tantrum directed at Captain Phasma and his troopers about locking her away and her escaping. After this, Ben lies on his bed and hopes he will be able to rest before his next expedition. He falls into a semi-meditative state.

Suddenly, the artificial lights in his quarters bend into a line. Squinting, Ben pushes up his elbows, head tipping towards the ceiling.

The line shapes into a person. Ben follows the light as it moves to the ground, the person standing at the foot of his bed. He shimmers blue, then solidifies into flesh. 

“Okayyyy,” the man whips his head around at his surroundings, “where did I go?”

When he registers Ben staring at him, he jumps a little.

“Oh,” he says weakly, “h-hi. Are you the big bad First Order?”

Ben tilts his head to the side. Based on the combination of features in this man, something in the Force tells him-

“You seem familiar,” the Force ghost says as he steps towards the bed, “you wouldn’t happen to know any Skywalkers, would you?”

Ben is utterly perplexed as he squints. “I used to be a Skywalker.”

The man frowns, eyes roving across Kylo’s dark clothing. “You’re a Skywalker? But,” his tone lilts with confusion, “I haven’t heard of another Skywalker. There’s Rey biologically, Finn by adoption, but,” the man lowers himself on the edge of the bed, “who are you?”

It clicks for Ben. It all clicks right into place, and he smiles.

His laugh, when it falls from his cruel smirk, tumbles out with every emotion bubbling up in Ben’s stomach: betrayal, hurt, bemusement, anger, and a dose of flippancy.

“Oh,” Ben snorts to curb his laughter, sitting up on the mattress, “you are the genocidal murderer that I am destined to emulate? I must admit,” he studies the man, “you aren’t very impressive.”

Anakin’s eyes widen in realization. “Leia,” he breathes, “you’re Leia’s son!”

“Let me guess,” Ben’s tone sharpens, “they never told you about me?”

Anakin shakes his head sadly. “What are you doing here? Why are you doing this?”

Ben wants to reveal the truth to his grandfather, who is decidedly not a victim of the Dark Side anymore, but that is exactly why he shouldn’t; Ben cannot compromise himself. He is in the middle of the game. He will win if he continues on his path. That cannot be jeopardized.

“Why do you think?” Ben sneers. “They never told me anything. They didn’t trust me, and he was coming after me. What is there to resist,” his tone hollows out, “when there is nothing stopping you?”

Anakin rises to his feet abruptly. He looks down at Ben sitting behind the desk.

“You can’t lie to the best liar in the galaxy,” he says with a smirk, “I’ve been where you are, and I sense...you are clever. Smarter than me.”

Anakin steps away, hands tucked behind his back. It is the stature of a warrior, and Ben can visualize the looming figure of a Sith Lord.

“Whatever you’re up to, know this,” Anakin says, “nothing can replace your family.”

Anakin shimmers blue and fades into the recycled oxygen particles. Ben scoffs and leaves the bed. He walks across the room and procures a bugged microphone. 

Taking it in his palm, he uses the Force to crush the evidence and discards it in a trash bin.


	16. Age 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe does not direct his attention to Luke, or even Ezra, as personnel get to work. He does not even look at Rey, who broke through the crowds and awaited a cue. Hair bound tightly, form-fitting maroon body armor secured, and double-sided lightsaber in hand, she is prepared for a reckoning.
> 
> Instead, Poe’s words are for Finn.
> 
> And he murmurs, “don’t get yourself killed, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The majority of Jedi in this fic wear body armor now. 
> 
> Welcome to TLJ!

Ben is on alert when Admiral Hux locks them both inside his office. Hux never seeks him out willingly, and that can only mean two things.

One: he is there to demand a higher standing.

Two: he knows something that he shouldn’t.

The redhead man wears a blank expression as the door completes multiple locks. Ben simply frowns up at him as he approaches the desk.

Hux’s uniform is stuffy as his piercing blue eyes regard Ben, pointed gray hat covering the majority of his fiery hair.

A scrambler in his hand, he flicks on the switch to turn the microphones into static. That done, he tucks the scrambler in a pocket.

Hux poses, “what would happen if the Supreme Leader discovered treachery?”

Ben does not bat an eye. “Have you discovered treachery, Admiral?”

“Certainly,” Hux’s eyes glimmer, “but I do not wish to act against the traitor.”

“You do not?” Ben hums. “And why is that?”

“Because he is more powerful than me,” Hux replies smoothly, “because he can snap my neck if he so wishes.” He raises his voice slightly as he smirks. “He can denounce me in a single flick of his wrist. He beholds a...force...that could kill me at any moment.”

Ben does not move.

“And yet,” Hux lowers himself into the chair across from Ben’s desk, “I am not afraid of him. I am only afraid of his Master if we,” his emphasis on the final word intrigues Ben, “are discovered.”

Ben cannot help his brow from arching in surprise. Hux is a double agent like him; the truth resonates in the Force. He has no clue how Hux figured it out, but Ben supposes it is not important to know. Hux is a clever weasel that could be very useful.

“What do you propose that we,” Ben sounds out the pronoun, “do about our mutual interest?”

“Work together, of course,” Hux clips.

“Work together,” Ben chuckles in the back of his throat amusedly, “only if you vow never to turn on me.”

Hux smiles. “My interest is not in your eventual crown. It is in remaining by your side, protected and unquestioned.”

“And you believe,” Ben asks, a note of incredulousness in his voice, “that I can defeat him?”

“Yes,” Hux answers easily.

Something warms inside Ben’s chest. The heat spreads to his skin, but thankfully, the flush does not reach his sunken cheeks.

“Do we have an accord?” Hux inquires.

Ben makes Hux sit in silence for a moment. Ben has gotten lonely these past years. No one to talk to, no one to confide in, no one who understands what he is going through. 

It wouldn’t be so bad to have an ally. And Hux takes the risk without Ben having to ask.

“Sure,” Ben half-smiles warily, “why not?”

————

Finn sits with his legs cast over the medbay bed. After a semi-long recovery from aligning his aura with his body, he could finally get back to fighting again. He was getting restless as of late, so he was glad to be out of this room.

Doctor Aphra enters with Poe. “Okay, kid,” Aphra drawls, “get up. Pretty boy has all your stuff.”

Poe flushes as he is addressed whilst carrying Finn’s bag of personal items. Poe has been very kind and patient through this whole process, staying with him after his long shifts and listening to Finn’s half-hearted rants.

It was time to do something about that underlying tension.

Using his hands and arms as leverage, Finn pushes away from the bed and stands slowly. Aphra studies him with a flash of concern, but nods when Finn does not trip or become dizzy.

“Alright,” Aphra says with her usual passive-aggression, “I won’t miss you, kid.”

“Everyone does,” Finn says breezily, causing Poe to snicker.

Aphra cracks an amused smirk. “Bye, Finn Organa-Bridger,” she rolls her eyes, “you weird dude.”

Finn pads over to Poe by the door. Poe offers Finn the jacket, the very jacket that started this madness, and Finn sticks his arms in the sleeves over his white shirt. Poe helps Finn secure the jacket over his shoulders and guides him out of the medbay.

As soon as they enter an empty hallway, Finn asks, “do you have a minute before you go?”

“Mhm,” Poe side smiles, “of course.”

Finn ushers Poe to the barracks, abandoned due to personnel being on shift. Unprompted, Poe sets Finn’s bag down on his bunk.

“What’s up?” Poe chimes.

Finn cups one side of Poe’s face, uncaring of who saw. Poe’s stubble is a prickly brush against Finn’s hand. He likes the sensation. 

Poe is transfixed on Finn as a result, tipping his glass-sharp jawline against Finn’s thumb. They are in each other’s orbit, which shrinks with each second.

“Are you ready for that kiss I promised you?” Finn murmurs.

Poe’s parted lips vibrate in a breathy hum of affirmation.

Finn’s gaze flickers to every detail on Poe’s face as he leans forward. The brown undertones to Poe’s eyes, the curve of his nose, the copper shade of his skin, the brightness to his smile and his inviting lips.

Noses press against cheeks as they tip at different angles, mouths pressing together and lingering to-

The Force alerts Finn to danger near D’Qar. He nudges away lightly, opening the eyes he hadn’t realized were closed for a moment of bliss.

In answer, the lights bathe the base in red.

Finn’s hand leaves Poe’s jaw as his eyes widen.

Finn supposes one moment is enough.

He grabs his lightsaber hilt from his bag, tucking it in the back of Poe’s former jacket. The action spurs Poe to move, share a look with Finn that says ‘this isn’t over.’ But they have to hurry, so Finn follows Poe to the strategy room.

Poe locks eyes with Luke and Ezra at the map table. They send Poe and Finn grave expressions.

Luke announces, “the First Order is here.”

Finn studies Poe’s profile as it tightens. Poe’s eyes flicker to Finn’s for strength, which Finn is glad to provide.

Poe solidifies and hardens, his emotions set aside. He crosses to the map table and searches for the base intercom system. 

He switches it on and speaks measuredly. “Pilots, prepare for defense and distraction. Jedi, disperse and attack. All other personnel, begin evacuation protocols.”

Finn watches the room shift in accordance with Poe’s orders. Poe is calm, very calm, and in turn, there is no panic to the footsteps.

But Finn knows what will happen next. They would get separated for the time being, their paths forced apart before they could converge under better circumstances.

Again.

Poe does not direct his attention to Luke, or even Ezra, as personnel get to work. He does not even look at Rey, who broke through the crowds and awaited a cue. Hair bound tightly, form-fitting maroon body armor secured, and double-sided lightsaber in hand, she is prepared for a reckoning.

Instead, Poe’s words are for Finn.

And he murmurs, “don’t get yourself killed, please.”

The syllables hold a certain weight to them. It is important to Poe that he is reassured. Finn wanted to say that he couldn’t promise that, neither of them could, but he was moved to voice a half-truth for Poe’s wavering sanity.

“I won’t,” Finn says, “and you better not either.”

Poe’s eyes flicker with amusement amongst the warzone of his mind, but the emotion does not reach an upturn of the lips. He simply leaves the strategy room.

Finn makes a point not to look at Poe’s retreating form. Rey smirks and nudges Finn’s arm. Finn rolls his eyes.

“Well,” Luke says curtly, “it’s our turn to fight.”

Ezra beams. “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

Luke sobers Ezra’s burgeoning excitement with a glance. “Yes,” he clips, “let’s go to the hangar bay. That’s where they’ll attack.”

————

Rey has never been on a battlefield with her family before. Against her belief that it would make her stomach turn to see her beloved parents and brother in danger, she has never felt more confident.

As she uppercuts a crimson stormtrooper, slicing his electro-staff, she is grateful to have Finn there to decapitate a trooper who tries to sweep at her legs with a dagger. She is elated as Papa manages to freeze blaster bolts before one smokes through a chink in her body armor. When she is on the receiving end of a sniper scope, she is happy that Dad is there to crush the weapon by taking the Force into his fist.

And as the army thickens, Rey finally glimpses her Dad’s mythical lightsabers.

Rey is alerted to the change when troopers rush Dad. The Force bends as if revealing a cabinet, Dad’s arm reaching inside to retrieve two lightsaber hilts. The Force turns itself inside out to revert back to normal.

There are two whooshes and unique thrums. Dad’s lightsabers are ignited amongst the stormtroopers. Between arms and legs, Rey makes out supernova white and blazing green.

Rey and Finn share gapes as Dad crouches and arches the blades forward. As the stormtroopers advance, he leaps up and swipes their weapons in half. 

Shocked, the troopers drop their broken blasters and staffs. They raise their armored gloves into fists.

With a snort, Dad uses the Force to blast them back, the toss knocking them unconscious. 

As a new wave arrives, Dad reverts to Ahsoka’s preferred lightsaber forms. He is lost in a pack of troopers.

Rey and Finn share a bright look. They finally get to see Dad in action!

After a moment, the siblings create Force shields to block blaster bolts. Papa realizes from afar that Dad is fighting, and they catch his shining eyes.

“Ohhhhhh,” Papa cackles as he slices blaster barrels and uses the Force to kick away three red stormtroopers, “MY HUSBAND IS OUT NOW!”

Dad smirks as he emerges from a pile of stormtroopers and steps over their bodies. As he walks calmly to a volley of charging troopers, he crosses his lightsabers in Ahsoka’s famous X.

Papa beams in appreciation at Dad. Rey and Finn create a shield to protect them both. Papa takes advantage of the breather to swoop his lightsaber behind his back and stand with Dad.

Rey’s parents share a look. After a beat, Papa puckers his lips and receives Dad’s eyeroll.

When the stormtroopers reach them, Dad and Papa take a side. Dad is left, Papa is right. They break into the middle of the group and align back-to-back. Rey’s vision is enveloped by trooper bodies as Papa smirks and Dad matches Papa’s ferocity. Dad mirrors Papa’s every move, taking down the stormtroopers, white and red, in about ten seconds.

The bodies drop. Papa turns around to beam at Dad. He leans down and whispers something to Dad, which causes Dad to flush.

Nonetheless, Finn shares a look with Rey. The stormtroopers are defeated, the First Order dreadnought attacked by Poe’s squadrons. Their power wanes, so both nod and take down their Force shields.

As soon as they do, the screaming sound of a TIE fighter, having broken away from the blockade above D’Qar, descends upon the empty base.

A shadow pummels Rey as if trying to steamroll over her body. She grits her teeth.

She breaks away from her family’s front line, advancing onto the jungle floor littered with the dead or injured. All three men call her name, but she does not register it.

Her boots quash the underbrush, dodging a limb or a scattered piece of armor. Dirt and blood scuffs stain her clothing and mess her triple buns. Her orange-green lightsaber blazes behind her, adopting Papa’s resting stance as she watches the TIE fighter bank towards her.

She knows he sees her. He knows she is waiting.

Rey collapses her lightsaber and clips it to her armored belt. She crouches low and grabs a hold of the Force.

As the TIE fighter swoops towards her, parting the trees with a tornado of air, Rey pushes her hands outwards.

The TIE fighter screams and screeches, halting to her will. It creaks in midair, the octagonal plexiglass frozen in front of her.

Kylo’s face, brutal and scarred on one cheek, stares at her with beady black eyes through the TIE fighter. He is in awe of her, tipping his head to the side and smirking.

Rey’s mind echoes with his deepened voice. ‘Oh, Rey, don’t you see? Don’t you see the power you have?’ Kylo chuckles behind the plexiglass. ‘We can bring the entire galaxy to its knees, if you’ll only surrender.’

“Never,” Rey hisses.

As if releasing a tightly-wound slingshot, she uses the Force to send the TIE fighter flying, zipping backwards from the forest and into the lower atmosphere. 

The TIE fighter rockets without spinning, and as it fades into the clouds, Rey can still hear Kylo’s laughter in her mind.

Breathing heavily, Rey drops to a kneeling position in the middle of the battlefield. Her boot nudges the helmet of a dead trooper and her armor plates coat with bloodstained moss, but she is too exhausted to think about it.

Rey closes her eyes and focuses on her meditative techniques. The shadow formerly known as Ben Skywalker-Solo fails to sink its claws into her, but she bathes in chlorine rather than a freshwater lake.

She purges the chemicals from her aura, Finn’s hand touching her shoulder plate.

Rey exhales through her nose and opens her eyes. Her retinas are assaulted by bleeding trees and blindspotted carnage.

“Come on,” Finn mumbles, “look up.”

Rey tears her gaze from the green and red and black to focus on the blue sky. 

The First Order dreadnought is busted open like craters on a meteor. They retreat as Home One lay in ruins behind Rey.

Despite the dizziness she felt from what happened with Kylo, Rey smiles as she picks out Resistance starfighters curving in celebration amongst the gloom.

-

The remaining Resistance converges on one massive vessel bound for Crait. After stripping away her body armor and dressing in comfortable gray robes, Rey gladly receives reunion hugs from family she has scattered amongst Home Two and Three.

Everyone is unsettled, though, by the sudden attack. There is an upended nerve in the Force, a scribble that refuses to smooth into a line. 

It doesn’t help when Rey is walking around and finds a First Order tracking device.

After ripping it apart, she drops the device unceremoniously on the map table.

Papa smiles proudly. “Good job, honey.”

“Did Ben do that,” Jacen wonders beside Dad, “or was it someone else?”

As always when the name is mentioned, gazes are careful not to look at Leia or Han.

At least the couple had started communicating and getting over their differences since Ben left. Unfortunately, it was too little too late in Ben’s mind.

It is terrifying that Rey knows exactly what Kylo thinks about and how he conceives of solutions.

Han mumbles, “I taught the kid everything about starships.”

The crowded room envelops in a beat of silence.

“Oh,” Jacen hesitates, “uh, I forgot to mention,” he purposely looks away from Leia and Han and focuses instead on Rey’s parents, “I duelled him.”

“What?” Rey croaks, remembering Kylo’s facial scar with a sudden vividness. “That was you?”

Jacen furrows his green brows at Rey. “You saw his scar, then?”

Rey bobs her head, lips parting in shock. “Jacen, you-”

Jacen turns sharply towards Leia and Han, eyes watering. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he emphasizes, “I really didn’t want to hurt him, but he...it was like he wanted to be hurt! Like he didn’t care! It was,” he ducks his head, “I didn’t like it,” Jacen says sadly, “it was messed up, actually.”

He lapses into stifling silence, unable to look up from the map table. Hera moves to touch his shoulder in comfort.

Kanan shuffles forward, milky eyes fixating on Leia’s general direction. “We need to figure out how to stop the First Order from following us.”

“I can help,” a small voice pipes up.

The sea of orange-clad officers parts for the voice. Two women around Rey’s age stand together in mechanic jumpsuits. They have the same skin tone and thick black hair, indicating they are biological siblings.

A second voice, bolder and stronger than the smaller woman who spoke, belongs to the slender one. “My sister and I,” she says, “know how to hack trackers to make the First Order think we’re someplace else.”

Poe, who has been silent and contemplative the entire time, walks towards the sisters and offers them a bright smile. 

“Paige and Rose Tico,” he asks, “right?”

The older sister nods. “I was with you on Jakku. I want to help.”

“I remember, Paige,” Poe smiles politely at the younger sister, “this is the brilliant Rose you told me about on the shuttle home?”

Rose makes a squeaking sound. “You talk about me to the admiralty, Paige?”

“Rose and I can mess with the tracker,” Paige says, “we just need a quiet space and a monitor.”

“The engine room,” Poe offers, “your plan will work. I’m glad you spoke up.”

Rey plucks the damaged tracker from the map table and stands next to Poe. She holds out the tracker and mumbles, “maybe I shouldn’t have broken it so hard.”

Paige clutches the device, intact due to frayed wires, and declares, “we’ll take care of it.”

Rey backs away sheepishly as Poe manages to find Finn in the throng.

“Can you go with them, Finn?” Poe asks.

Finn bobs his head, lightsaber strapped to his belt, and strides after the retreating sisters.

The conversation continues, but Rey drowns it out.

-

Landing on Crait should have meant the danger was over. The tracker should have worked without a hitch, but it didn’t. All the First Order did was split their forces in half, buying them a little time to prepare for another assault in the mountains.

Kylo is going to show up for a second round. He was a sore loser at heart, even when Rey would defeat him on the mat in lightsaber training.

The fact that he was two years younger than her and just as strong and talented in the Force is what worried her. The Dark Side amplifies Kylo’s powers tenfold, feeding from his petulant hatred.

Rey would have to keep up.

Crait’s native mammals, crystalline Vulptex that can reportedly outrun a blaster bolt, trail after the Force sensitives, drawn to them. As Rey studies the line of ski speeders being prepared, a pack of Vulptex skitter around her legs. She follows the thickest pack of the creatures, finding Papa in the middle laughing at them. Dad smiles fondly as Papa pats their heads, their tails swishing in hello.

The crowd of crystalline foxes part for Rey to enter the crowd; she hastily strapped her maroon armor back on in anticipation for another attack. Finn appears from beside a ski speeder, a lone Vulptex curling around his lower leg as he meets with them.

As Poe, Rose, and Paige outfit the ski speeders, Rey prompts Finn, “are you making new friends?”

Finn hums in affirmation. “They’re brilliant, like Poe said.”

“They did get half of the First Order to back off,” Papa chimes, “and that’s something, right?”

“The speeders are ready,” Finn reports, “I don’t sense them in the star system yet, but it could be at any moment.”

“Uhhh,” Poe stumbles away from the ski speeders, staring at the circle of Vulptex isolating the family from personnel, “what is happening?”

Paige and Rose stare from behind Poe at the display. “Wooowwww,” they say in wonderment.

“Just a Jedi thing,” Finn says with a hand wave in dismissiveness.

“Okay, um,” Poe clears his throat and forcibly tears his gaze from Finn, “are they here yet?”

Finn’s expression changes in the span of a single second. The brightness in his eyes fades, and his mouth downturns.

“Yup,” Finn says.

A ripple travels through the Force, the Vulptex reacting by sprinting towards the cave mouth.

“Okay,” Dad shares a look with Papa, “we believe in you.”

“Wait,” Rey blinks as panic bubbles up in her chest and lingers in her throat, “you’re not following us?”

Dad steps towards her and holds onto her shoulder plates. Since Rey is taller than the rest of her family, Dad has to look up with contemplation.

“Rey,” Dad murmurs, “your Papa and I are getting old. D’Qar took a lot out of us, and neither of us are one to admit that freely to our own daughter.”

Rey dips into the Force. Dad lets down his mind shields, like he used to when she was training on Lothal. As if checking for confirmation, Rey is assaulted by a weakness in her Dad, an exhaustion from their battle.

Have Dad and Papa hid this from her the whole time? So she wouldn’t feel lost? Afraid? Overwhelmed?

Dad sighs and cups Rey’s cheek. His eyes harden with encouragement.

“You can all do this,” Dad says, “you can get Ben away from here while we evacuate,” he rolls his eyes, “again.”

Dad’s hand leaves a coldness on Rey’s skin.

“Okay,” she mumbles, “okay.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Dad smiles with his entire aura, “just send the First Order packing.”

Rey has no idea how she could distract the First Order looming over Crait, but she would figure it out. She bobs her head.

“Good talk,” Papa winks at Rey as he clasps Dad’s hand, “we believe in both of you.”

When Rey turns towards Finn, having forgotten he was there with Poe and the Tico sisters, his brown eyes solidify. Finn’s steadfast gaze sets Rey at ease.

With no verbal communication spoken between any of them, the five humanoids mount their ski speeders.

-

They barely get a few miles away from the caves when Rey’s ski speeder is clipped by a TIE fighter.

This is a battle that is not being played fair. The First Order has a trio of Star Destroyers in the upper atmosphere. A squadron of TIEs and ground troops are following Kylo’s orders. The salt kicks up white and red dust in the air, making it harder to drive without an impaired viewport. All the odds are stacked against the two dozen pilots and Jedi on ski speeders.

And yet, Rey smiles as Poe successfully causes two AT-ATs to crash into each other. Similarly, Poe’s Black Squadron does a better job at taking out troops than the Force sensitives.

Everything came to a halt when a Star Destroyer banked low into the atmosphere.

Rey would bet anything that she knows who is in charge.

“Kriff!” Poe yells through their shoddy comm systems. “Does anyone know what to do about that?!”

The Star Destroyer’s flared engines kick up red dust in a tornado, momentarily blinding the pilots in ski speeders. Several of them curse in Rey’s earpiece.

“I do,” Finn says with determination.

Rey bristles in the tight space designated as her cockpit in the ski speeder. As the salt clears from her viewport, she chirps, worry seeping into her voice, “are you sure you know what you’re doing, Finn?”

“Yeah,” Poe clips, “same question. What are you thinking right now, Finn?”

Rey can imagine Finn’s smile as he replies, “I’m thinking about doing something a little stupid. Will you back me up, Rey?”

Rey notices that the First Order ceased firing on the ski speeders. A strange roaring quiet lay before them as they advance towards the hovering Star Destroyer. 

The First Order is waiting for them to make the first move. Or, more likely, Kylo is waiting to see what they would do.

“That depends,” Rey says, “I have no idea what you’re thinking about right now.”

“You don’t need to,” Finn chimes, “just follow what I do, alright?”

Rey sighs deeply into her comm. “Fine,” she says begrudgingly.

“Great,” Finn’s ski speeder breaks formation, advancing with accelerated speed, “the three of us Jedi are going on a little trip.”

“Wait,” Jacen’s grin is apparent through his static comm, “I get to join in on the fun too?!”

“Oh nooo,” Rey groans, “you’re not seriously suggesting-”

“Yup,” Finn hums, “that’s right. Paige and Rose were lovely enough to give the three of us a bag of thermal detonators. Look under your seats.”

Rey accelerates with Finn using one foot while her hand leaves the controls. Her fingers tangle in a net. She grasps it, pulling it up to her lap. The lower part of her eyes catch on flashes of metallic spheres.

“I’m seriously worried about you, Finn,” Rey deadpans.

“I’m not,” Jacen cackles, “this is going to be so awesome!”

“Finn,” Poe’s voice shakes with nerves, “please don’t die. Please.”

“I won’t,” Finn says in amusement, “are you both ready?”

“No,” Rey says weakly.

“Yes!” Jacen exclaims.

In Rey’s viewport, Finn banks sharply to the side and pops open his plexiglass ceiling. While the ski speeder skates across the salt, carving out a flurry of red, Finn Force jumps onto the Star Destroyer. Rey realizes how bare his casual clothing was in comparison to the armor she wore, and a spike of overprotectiveness sweeps over her chest. Nonetheless, Finn lands on the starship with the bag in hand, undeterred by his lack of armor.

Jacen hollers through the comm system and brakes while turning his ski speeder in a horizontal direction. The plexiglass opens and Jacen leaps in his graffitied armor. He easily rolls onto the First Order battleship with his bag of thermal detonators.

“Ugh,” Rey sighs, “boys.”

She banks sharply, mimicking Finn’s maneuver. She grasps on the net of thermal detonators and pushes open the plexiglass. It whooshes open and Rey shuts her eyes.

“May the Force be with me,” she mutters under her breath.

She leaps away from the ski speeder, the wind rushing at her face. She lands on the Star Destroyer after flipping. She breathes to even out her balance on the slanted steel and shoulders her bag. 

Rey climbs over to Finn and Jacen as they randomly set down charges in full view of the First Order. 

None of the troopers do anything, so Rey examines the viewport. Captain Phasma is seething in her chrome stormtrooper suit. General Hux’s face is as red as his hair. 

And Kylo Ren stands motionless in his custom robe and helmet, transfixed on Rey’s form as she sets down charges alongside Jacen and Finn.

Jacen winks at Kylo to provoke him, but all he does is order troops to evacuate. It shocks Rey as the stormtroopers and admiralty exit the room, leaving Kylo to stare at them as they work.

His deep voice enters their minds: ‘I didn’t expect this from you, Rey.’

“Hey,” Jacen yells at the viewport, “Finn and I are here too, dude!”

Rey advances towards the viewport. A thick piece of plexiglass stands between them. It does not feel like enough.

Rey projects her voice into Kylo’s head: ‘Are you going to do anything about it?’

Kylo laughs through his vocoder. ‘I’ll let you go this once. But be warned: Snoke is coming for you. For all of you.’

Kylo turns on his heels and leaves the command center of the Star Destroyer.

Aghast, Rey turns to Finn and Jacen. “Uh,” she points towards the glass, “did you both see that?”

“Yup,” Finn says, dropping his empty net of bombs.

“Weird,” Jacen bobs his head and clicks on the final thermal detonator, a flashing red stripe on the spherical bomb, “very weird. Should we still blow this ship up?”

Finn shrugs. “I mean...why not? We’re already up here.”

Rey snorts, “alright, let’s get out of here.”

Rey, Jacen, and Finn use the Force to right their ski speeders. They hop onto them and drive away.

After alerting the other pilots, Finn presses a button. The Star Destroyer bursts into flames.

And when they all meet up on the same vessel, Rey snickers with her parents as Finn and Poe embrace in full view of the crowds.


	17. Age 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A landspeeder roaring westward of their vehicle breaks the tree line. Rey squints and stands in the driver’s seat.
> 
> From behind them, Jacen exclaims, “Luke and Leia?!”
> 
> Rey arches a brow; she didn’t expect her Dad and Aunt Leia to sense the strangeness in this clearing too.
> 
> She cups her hands around her mouth and projects, “DAD!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stormpilot flashback was based on the scene in Mad Max Fury Road where Furiosa uses Max’s shoulder to support her sniper rifle while shooting the bad guys. It’s one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen in a movie, and I thought Stormpilot was worthy of it.
> 
> I’m also not good at writing scenes about misunderstandings, so it might seem overdramatic.

“I don’t like this,” Rose decides.

Rey turns to frown at the smaller woman. The duo were instructed to survey the jungle around base for a commlink that Jacen lost on one of his joyrides. She does not know why Rose was assigned to come along, as she was the most invaluable engineer in the Resistance, but it does get cramped in that base. Rey always itches to walk around and do something menial, such as search for her cousin’s commlink. It was a simple task. Not difficult to mess up.

And yet...what doesn’t Rose like about an empty jungle?

Rey pokes around the foliage, seeking shadows amongst the dewdrop-shaped tree leaves and dense underbrush. Ajan Kloss is not a particularly noteworthy planet in the Force; plant and animal life is bright around her, but it does not pulsate with energy like Naboo or Lothal.

Rey is about to verbalize an inquiry to Rose, but a shift in the environment alerts her in the Force.

Tipping her head towards the trees, she squints as several zymod change the color of their hides. The long-legged lizards transform from being camouflaged green to flashing yellow.

Rose gasps, backing up into Rey. “Eep,” she squeaks, “what are those?”

Rey turns her head slightly. Her cheek brushes against Rose’s raven hair as she soothes, “they’re native to the planet. Herbivores. Don’t worry.”

“Well I’m already worried,” her voice shakes as her gaze darts to study the sheer amount of zymod perched on branches, “why are they yellow?”

Rey gulps as the Force alarms chirping in her ears vibrate like subwoofers. As the sound fades, it does not dissipate. Not entirely.

“Something’s wrong with the Force,” Rey confirms to Rose, “I need to go for backup.”

“Oh,” Rose mumbles, “what about the commlink?”

Rey turns to look down at the woman. They are not very far apart in age, but Rose is oddly innocent and fragile for what the Resistance has endured.

Such fragility must be protected at all costs.

“We’ll make Jacen look for his own comm,” Rey placates, smiling to ease Rose’s uncertainty, “tell him a message from me: he’s a piece of poodoo.”

Rose giggles girlishly. “Won’t he get mad at me?”

“If he does,” Rey’s eyes glitter, “you can kick him in the shin. You know how to do that from Ahsoka’s self-defense classes, right?”

“Mhm,” Rose smiles mischievously, “you got it, boss.”

————

Poe used to have nightmares about failure. He used to have nightmares about making one fatal mistake as leader of the Resistance and the consequences resulting in catastrophic damage and death. His words had more power than anyone who enlisted or fled to the Resistance for shelter, as much power as the war veterans left on their new Ajan Kloss base who had not retired.

But Poe’s nightmares faded into a dreamless sleep when Finn started sleeping beside him at night.

Poe was unaware that the space between them shortened so massively. He didn’t notice until Finn’s belongings were strewn about his private room and Finn’s articles of clothing hung beside Poe’s own uniforms. He didn’t notice until Poe woke up one morning and heard the fresher running, indicating Finn was showering and dressing for their shift.

And despite realizing these slow but sudden changes, Poe could not be happier. Finn has become his stability, the man that Poe could look towards in a crowded room and find unwavering support. Even though Finn was younger, he was bolder and exuded more self-confidence than Poe. It helped to hear Finn’s sureness in the face of conflict and adversity.

There is also no one else he trusts by his side in battle. And there had been plenty of battles where Poe would have ended up dead if it weren’t for Finn’s abilities.

Finn’s importance to Poe was never more prominent than the instance where Poe ran out of energy bolts in the middle of a firefight. Finn’s response to Poe’s panic at the empty cartridge was to grab his arm, kneel them behind a crate, and whisper, ‘inhale.’

A rifle barrel is rested on Poe’s shoulder, and he shudders as Finn crouches a breath away, closing one eye and focusing on the scope. He inhales, holding his breath as his skin warms at the close contact. Poe’s gaze captures the curvature of Finn’s lashes as his eye squints, the smoothness in his round cheeks, the tense set in his jaw.

‘Now,’ Finn murmurs.

Poe exhales, and the energy bolt kicks back on his shoulder. It whizzes and hits its critical mark, the jet-packed trooper who had been seeking them. There is a crash on the hard durasteel floor.

Finn slips the rifle away from Poe’s shoulder and leans it against the crate. Poe swallows thickly and Finn rises to his feet, eyes sweeping concernedly over him.

Finn wordlessly offers his hand, and Poe takes it to lift himself up. He would always take that hand. Always.

Observing Finn now, regaining consciousness by the minute, Poe understands that Finn changed him for the better.

Finn presses his plush lips together, mouth curving into a contemplative downturn. His muscled arms underneath the pillow shift, his white shirt tightening around his shoulders. His lashes flutter as they open, brown eyes bleary but bright.

Poe flushes as Finn’s gaze lazily trails across his bare chest, lingering on the japor snippet before flickering up to his eyes.

“Were you,” Finn’s gaze turns playful and aware, “watching me?”

Poe’s skin burns. “No?”

Finn chuckles, his expression amused. “It’s fine. Come here.”

Poe nudges his nose forward, pressing a brief kiss to Finn’s lips. Finn smiles as Poe studies his lustrous dark skin.

“Good morning,” Poe murmurs.

“Morning,” Finn reaches for Poe’s hair and brushes curls away from his forehead, “did you sleep alright?”

“You help a lot,” he says softly.

“Good,” Finn’s gaze slides over Poe’s bashful expression before retracting, “now come on.”

Poe sighs but leaves the bed. They take turns using the fresher and dress in comfortable silence. Poe blushes when Finn puts on his jacket.

Poe chooses a tan buttoned shirt and zips up a bright orange jacket with his General ranking sewn on the breast pocket. He tucks the japor snippet underneath his shirt.

As Poe keys open his door, Finn kisses Poe’s cheek and mumbles something about seeing him later. Poe bobs his head and allows Finn to exit the hallway with his lightsaber strapped to his pants.

Allowing himself a beat to stare, Poe curtly locks his door and strides down the opposite hallway. 

He means to check in with his squadron as they complete routine maintenance checks on their X-wings, but he barely gets to the garage when two familiar voices call his name.

With wide eyes, Poe is embraced by his parents, who have been hiding on Takodana ever since the attack on D’Qar.

Poe tips his head down at Mom. Her rich dark hair is completely white, her sharp face wrinkled. Thankfully, her bright brown eyes remain unchanged.

“Mom?” Poe asks dazedly. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on,” Dad ruffles Poe’s curly hair, his voice gentle but his features rough, “we can’t visit our son?”

Despite his surprise, Poe smiles. “Of course you can. You just...you haven’t commed in a while, and I figured you were...oh, I don’t know. I’m glad you’re here.”

“You look good, kiddo,” Dad says as he takes Mom’s hand, “really good.”

“Is there something you want to tell us?” Mom’s gaze upturns as if examining Poe’s features carefully.

Oh...right.

Shara Bey and Kes Dameron ran away so fast that Poe never got to tell them.

Maybe they weren’t really here for a harmless visit. Ezra probably commed them to hint that Poe has news to be told in person. 

That sneak.

“I simply mean,” his mother backtracks, “you have a glow about you, dear.”

Poe flushes under their scrutiny; it was ridiculous to imagine that he looked any different from a change in his relationship status. “Do I?”

“Mhm,” his mother smirks, “what is it, Poe?”

Poe could not avoid the inquiry forever. He would have to get it over with so he could move on.

“Um,” he says gently, “I’m kind of...with someone.”

“Oh,” Mom lights up, “thank the stars!”

“What?” He asks flatly.

“Oh,” Dad chuckles, “we were so worried about you, kid!”

“Your Dad means to say,” Mom cuts in, “that you’ve never expressed interest in someone else before. We assumed you were asexual like Rey-”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Dad emphasizes.

“Right,” Mom says, “there’s nothing wrong with that, honey, but we knew there was more to your preferences than meets the eye.”

“Yes,” Dad nods, “we want you to be happy. We know how much pressure you’re under, and it really helps to have someone to lean on.”

“We have each other,” Mom smiles at Dad, “and we help each other every day.”

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for this woman,” Dad says gruffly, “so we’re glad that you found someone.”

“Who is it, then?” Mom asks eagerly. “Is it someone that we know?”

Anxiety rises up in Poe’s chest. He knows his parents love and accept him, but it was going to be weird to tell them who he’s dating.

“Mhm,” Poe mumbles.

“Honey,” Mom placates, “it’s okay. You can tell us.”

“Anything,” Dad adds.

Poe’s gaze flickers from his mother’s face to his father’s kind eyes. He exhales shakily out of his mouth and ducks his head, leveling it after gaining his confidence.

“It’s Finn,” Poe says, “I’m in love with Finn, okay?”

Poe swallows a lump in his throat. Mom tilts her head to the side as if comprehending his words. Dad simply blinks.

“Okay,” Poe sighs, “I have work to do.”

Before he could turn on his heel, Mom grabs his hand. Poe stills.

Mom smiles. “Oh, honey. What a wonderful choice.”

Dad hums. “Finn’s a good man.”

“You think so?” Poe looks between his parents. “You’re not saying that because I shocked you and now you don’t want to upset me?”

“While this is a bit shocking,” Dad admits, Mom smacking his arm, “and yes, it’s strange to think of you dating Ezra’s son,” he shrugs, “but it doesn’t matter what we think.”

Poe refrains from sighing in relief. He knew his parents were open-minded, but the niggling doubt was extinguished.

“Okay,” Poe clears his throat to prevent getting choked up, “thank you. I really do have to go now, though.”

Mom pats his arm while Dad chuckles. “Have a good day, Poe.”

Poe smiles. “I will.”

————

Finn makes his mid-morning guard sweep around the hangar bay. Usually, he is left alone save for his family, who take to waving and embarrassing him whenever he tries to keep a straight face. 

But Poe’s friends, also known as Black Squadron, call his name and wave him over to their line of X-wings.

Finn furrows his brows as the group of six beings regard him from various positions around a pair of X-wings.

“Heyyyy,” Jessika’s legs dangle from atop her X-wing, the sunshine making her skin glow, “do you ever get bored just wandering around, Finn?”

Finn shrugs. “Not really.”

“Is that, like,” Karé considers, “a Jedi thing? Does it calm you down or something?”

Finn bobs his head. “I never thought about it, but it does, actually.”

“Well,” Snap drawls, twirling a socket wrench between his fingers in boredom, “I’ll bet you’re wondering why we’re talking to you.”

“Hm,” Finn looks up at the cloudy sky as if he is thinking, “I wonder what Black Squadron could possibly want to talk to me about? A conundrum, indeed.”

Jacen bursts into the scene in an orange jumpsuit like the rest of the squadron. He is an honorary member of the team, but he held honors in every field in the Resistance. He halts at the space between Finn and Black Squadron, grinning and crossing his arms as if waiting for a holo show to resume.

Black Squadron pays the eavesdropping man no mind. They must be used to his ways.

“Funny,” Suralinda snickers at Finn, “Poe never told us you were funny.”

Finn schools his expression from the panicked state in the back of his mind, which is screaming ‘WHAT DOES POE TELL THEM ABOUT ME?!’

Instead, Finn emits a low and contemplative hum. “What else hasn’t he told you about me?”

“Uh,” Oddy cuts in, “literally nothing. He won’t tell us anything!”

Jessika and Suralinda roll their eyes at the Abednedo who did not comprehend the meaning of tact.

“What Oddy means,” L’ulo drawls considerately from his X-wing perch, “is that he keeps you to himself, and for some reason, the humanoids have collectively decided they want to know more about you.”

“Humanoids,” Karé smirks at L’ulo, “thank you for those beautiful words.”

“Okay,” Finn plays along, “I’m Finn Organa-Bridger, an orphan from Lothal who was taken in by Ezra and Luke when I was seven. I’m Force sensitive and I’m a Jedi. That’s it, really.”

“No,” Jessika shakes her head, “I don’t buy it.”

“What?” Finn asks in puzzlement.

“There has to be more to you than that,” Snap says, “because, look, I’ve known Poe a long time,” Finn fixates at the man’s information, “I’ve known him since the beginning, since we became pilots together, and,” he points at Finn, “he’s never, ever, and I do mean never,” Snap emphasizes, “expressed interest in anyone else. Never! So what Jessika is saying is,” Snap steps closer, “you have to be a special guy to capture Poe’s attention. Very special.” Snap crosses his arms, suddenly serious. “What is it that makes you unique? Who is it that finally makes Poe happy?”

Finn has never heard of a more loaded question in his entire life.

“Well,” he parses, “I jumped onto a Star Destroyer and made it explode. You all saw that. Is that what you mean by unique?”

They stare at him. 

And Jacen cracks up laughing. It is a sound so boisterous and piercing that he has to wipe away tears after bowling over on his stomach.

“Classic Finn,” Jacen says with a laugh, “so awesome.”

“Heyyy,” Rey strides up to Finn in Sabine-esque body armor and garners his attention, “I’m sensing something in the jungle. Wanna come investigate?”

“I’m trying to befriend Black Squadron right now, Rey.”

“The blame is on you if I die.”

Finn facepalms and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kriff, Rey, why did you have to immediately pull the death card? Okay!”

“Can I come too?” Jacen asks eagerly.

“Depends,” Rey says breezily, “did Rose inform you-”

“Yes,” Jacen sighs in exasperation, “she stomped on my foot and said it was a gift from you. Thanks for that.”

Rey snorts in amusement. “Fine,” she allows, “you can come.”

Jacen beams. “Let’s party!”

As Rey and Jacen leave, Finn says to Black Squadron, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

————

As Rey drives them a couple miles away from base, parking in the middle of a random clearing, Finn asks, “is there anyone guarding the base?”

“Kanan and Papa are on it,” Rey says, shutting off the ignition, “we have plenty of Jedi to spare for what little land we take up here.”

A landspeeder roaring westward of their vehicle breaks the tree line. Rey squints and stands in the driver’s seat.

From behind them, Jacen exclaims, “Luke and Leia?!”

Rey arches a brow; she didn’t expect her Dad and Aunt Leia to sense the strangeness in this clearing too.

She cups her hands around her mouth and projects, “DAD!”

Dad turns sharply, his shock very expressive despite the distance between their landspeeders. He mouths her name, but she does not hear the sound it makes. He leaves the passenger’s seat as Leia steps on the jungle floor and leans over the front of the landspeeder.

“Well,” Jacen hops out of the landspeeder, “guess this won’t be a fun adventure after all.”

Rey glances over at Finn. He is frozen in the passenger’s seat, staring out at the clearing.

“Finn?” Rey murmurs in concern, dropping down to pat his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Finn blinks as if remembering how to move. “It feels like Lothal in here,” he says weakly.

Rey frowns. “What do you mean?”

The Force sends out an alert, and Rey turns her head to the clearing.

In the moment since she had last looked, a Force ghost appeared, in the midst of a lightsaber duel with an old man in a black hooded robe.

Her heart stops when she recognizes the Jedi fighting the Darksider, and her voice leaps out of her throat:

“ANAKIN!”

A flash of a memory that wasn’t Rey’s plays in the back of her eyelids, superimposed over the image. The jungle clearing is on fire, a starship platform containing three humanoids beside a Nubian royal shuttle. One man had a black robe, one man had a brown robe, and one was a pregnant woman wearing beige.

Rey sees her face, then, and her throat seizes. The pregnant woman may as well be her, may as well be Leia, and that meant it could only be one woman.

Padmé Amidala-Naberrie, Rey’s grandmother.

‘Anakin,’ her voice is a choke while she cries at the man in black robes, ‘you’re breaking my heart.’

And as quickly as it appears, the vision is torn away from her like a tooka doll. The jungle clearing no longer burns, and the other four Jedi are making their way to the battle.

“Rey!” Finn calls from over his shoulder. “Come on! Cover me!”

Rey realizes what her brother is going to do, and her heart wrenches down to her stomach and torn from her gut. She is jolted back to life and slides down the landspeeder door, which she does not remember clicking open. 

Her boots hit the lush jungle floor and she sprints to catch up with Finn and Jacen; she had armor, but they didn’t, so she needed to protect them. Dad and Leia are around somewhere too, but she cannot pinpoint them in the rush of air. She undoes her messy braid for mobility, her thick hair flying down to the middle of her back.

By the time Rey reaches the holographic lightsaber battle, Finn uses the Force to turn his arms corporeal. Shocked still, Jacen gapes at Finn’s blue hands. 

Finn grabs onto the ends of Anakin’s brown-maroon robes and pulls him away. Anakin backpedals, messy wavy hair whipping over his shoulders as he turns to register Finn.

“Finn,” Anakin huffs in relief, standing beside Finn as he solidifies his arms again, “thank the Force!”

He looks back at the hooded man and uses the Force to buffet the Darksider away. The wrinkled yellow-eyed man falls and wheezes. The Darksider’s palms land on the forest floor and he bowls over on his back to heave air. The hood covers his face and the robes conceal his identity, but Rey does not have to guess at his name.

Rey closes her eyes and sighs out a breath to calm down. Without prompting, Rey gathers the Light in her cupped palms, holding them in a prayer stance near her armored chest. The Light lingers in a bright ball against her heart as she approaches the coughing man bent over on the forest floor.

After another wheeze, the Darksider tips his head up.

Rey regards the Emperor’s echo with a simple bat of her eyelashes. The Emperor’s yellow eyes stare back as if wondering what she would look like flayed on a metal slab. His lips curl into an evil smile, a half-twist that makes Rey hear a choking laugh reverberate in her mind.

In answer, Rey directs the energy forward as if projecting a holo. She frowns as the Light burns the Emperor’s false skin. He chuckles as if they are playing a game. 

After a moment, the Emperor’s echo fades away. 

Rey extinguishes her Light by dropping her palms, arms clapping against her sides. She breathes through her mouth in a slow exhale, then whirls around.

“Honey,” Dad envelops Rey into a hug, blurring her vision, “are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Rey shakes her head into Dad’s shoulder. His silver-blonde hair, loose from its bun, tickles her cheek; the motion calms Rey infinitely.

“Good,” Dad smooths out Rey’s hair, “this is why I can’t see you in danger.” He addresses Finn, who stands behind Dad. “You okay too?”

Finn hums in affirmation, receiving a half-hug over the shoulder. Finn lingers for a beat before Dad steps back. 

Dad regards Leia, who has her head down in melancholy. Jacen stands near Anakin, whose Force ghost had not fizzled out.

“Sup, Anakin,” Jacen says with an incline of the head, “how’s the ghost war going?”

But Anakin does not reply. He looks at Luke and Leia, ducking his head as he drags his boots across the forest floor in a semicircle.

Anakin has been waiting for decades to speak to his children, and now that he is right in front of them, he is at a loss?

While Rey does not have the full scope of everything that happened in the last two wars, she understood her Dad is intensely stubborn. Someone needs to intervene if anything is going to be discussed. 

Why not have it be her to start the conversation?

“Anakin,” Rey offers her biological grandfather a half-smile, “I know it can be hard to say things out loud, but we’re here, right?”

Anakin musters a grimace, but Leia clenches her jaw.

“I don’t care what our fascist father has to say,” Leia remarks ferociously, “him being here in the Light does not forgive what he has done to us.”

“You’re right,” Dad clips, to Rey’s surprise, “you’re right, Leia.”

Leia bristles, her dark eyes unrelenting. “There’s a ‘but’ in your kriffing sentence, isn’t there?”

Dad smiles, his tone gentle. “But...we should give him a chance.”

Leia scoffs, “a chance? Please.” She crosses her arms and turns her cheek pointedly away from Anakin’s flickering Force presence. “He didn’t give us any chances when he was fighting to hurt and kill.”

Leia flexes her prosthetic fingers. Her eyes linger towards Dad’s hearing aids. Rey freezes.

What?!

“That’s why,” Dad says carefully to his twin sister, “we should let him speak. To show we are better than he used to be.”

Leia frowns in consideration at Dad. “You thought the same way as me the last time I checked. What changed?”

“My husband,” Dad says flippantly, “my daughter, my son. They changed my mind.”

Leia purses her lips, narrowing her eyes. “This was Ezra flogging you for being a grouchy old man, wasn’t it?”

Dad rolls his eyes. “He got me thinking, that’s all.”

“Thinking like a crazy person,” Leia deadpans, “that’s for sure.”

Dad sighs, “I don’t care, alright? Don’t talk to him, then. Just listen.”

Leia huffs, “fine.” She stares critically at Force ghost Anakin. “Go.”

Anakin rocks on his feet. “Okay, hi,” he chirps, “um, there’s no possible way that I can change your mind about me, Leia, I know. I just,” Anakin looks at Dad, “thank you, Luke. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for saving me.”

“By nearly dying, you mean,” Leia corrects.

Again, Rey wishes somebody would tell her what she’s missing!

Anakin’s voice grows quieter. “I don’t expect you to feel bad for me, but I’ve served my punishment. Decades of it. I just wanted to see you both one last time before,” he sighs, “before I give up the fight and leave the Living Force forever. So, um,” Anakin shrugs, “I’ve caused you both more pain than I can fathom. Nothing will ever make that right. I really wanted to tell you that I know what I’ve done, that I’ve atoned, and I’ll be out of your lives forever now.”

“You’re leaving?” Jacen blurts out. “But you have a ghost war to win!”

Anakin regards the man, his expression falling. “Some of us are gone already. We’re going to give up.”

Rey can sense it. The emptiness. The faded Force presences, bright spots gone from the fabric of the universe.

“No,” she whispers, but it is loud enough for the group to hear, “what’s happened to all of you?”

The hopelessness seeping into Rey’s voice must strike a chord, because not even Leia could find another way to verbalize a dig at Anakin.

“Um,” Anakin is choked up, “Darth Plagueis is winning. He’s winning. He’s erasing us. Kit, Shaak, Luminara, Plo, Mace, most of the Jedi Council,” he huffs, “they’re all gone. Snoke is getting stronger. We already know his physical body is hiding on Exegol, but,” Anakin shakes his head, “his power is growing. He’s planning something to get rid of all of you. And I just...I’m so tired. There’s not much of me left.” He glances earnestly at Rey. “I think you’re our best shot, Rey, but we can’t help you anymore. I’m sorry.”

Rey’s eyes prickle with wetness.

“Wait,” Finn breathes, “I have an idea.”

A lone tear falls down Rey’s cheek, plinking on her armor. After a contemplative beat, she turns to her brother.

Finn reaches Anakin. “You said the Jedi have infinite wisdom, right?”

“Yeeeees,” Anakin draws out, “why do you ask?”

Finn’s eyes harden with determination. When he gets like this, there is no stopping him.

“I’m going to bring the remaining ghosts here,” Finn says evenly, “and I’m going to transfer their wisdom to Rey.”

“Hey,” Dad holds up his hands, “hang on, Finn.”

“Do you know,” Leia asks Finn, “how much power that will drain from you? It could literally kill you!” She points to Dad. “He knows!”

Rey bristles. It is difficult to imagine her Dad being anyone other than the wisest and most powerful Force sensitive besides herself in the galaxy. Dad had a learning curve like Rey, and while Rey had seen a young version of her parents when she was transported back in time, she never saw her Dad as inexperienced and foolish.

But he was, once. The thought unsettles Rey.

She thought she knew a lot about her parents and her family, but over the years, it has become apparent that her knowledge is an inkblot on a masterpiece canvas.

This is the very reason why Ben turned on all of them. Ben only saw the bad, the withheld information in a sea of support and love. 

Rey can understand his thought process now, but she knows for certain: she may feel uneasy, but she would never betray her family for false promises.

“Not if I have help,” Finn chimes.

Rey nearly forgot what Finn was suggesting he should do in order to preserve the knowledge of the old Jedi.

To her surprise, Dad says, “I’ll help.”

“Me too,” Jacen adds.

Dad stares at Leia. She relents with a “fine.”

Finn becomes corporeal. Rey remarks, “creepy.”

Finn winks and brings back a dozen Jedi in the jungle clearing. Leia tears up a little at Obi-Wan, but soon wears her mask to glare at him. Yoda is the most popular arrival, and he tips his head to every Jedi in attendance.

Rey stands as a chain link is formed. Finn presses two fingers against Rey’s forehead and sets her at ease with a smile.

“This is going to be so awesome,” Finn says, “don’t worry. Now close your eyes.”

Rey obeys. In the darkness, she hears rustling and feels a sudden breeze on her skin. 

Then, she is hit with an onslaught of data. She squeezes her eyes shut to focus on the blurs sweeping past her mind.

Rey sees everything: war and peace, fire and ice, blood and water, melancholy and happiness, hatred and love, ancient texts and forgotten worlds and destroyed civilizations and the balance in the Force, the balance that cannot be tipped in favor of the Light or the Dark.

That is the problem. It is the problem that no one refuses to acknowledge, that no one will entertain, that no one will accept as the truth, the only truth in the galaxy.

The balance prevents catastrophe. The balance creates beauty.

The balance is in twos. The balance is split.

The balance is Rey and Ben. The balance must always be Rey and Ben.

Rey understands her purpose now. The Light shines on her.

As she basks in the spotlight, the knowledge permeating her aura, Finn’s fingers brush away from her forehead.

She opens her eyes, the sunlight spearing through her corneas. Her mind spins, but as she adjusts, her discomfort fades with her surroundings.

Finn, though, frowns. The spark in his eyes fades as he looks over Rey’s shoulder.

She bats her lashes and exhales through a parted mouth. She turns.

After a dusting of holographic blue, the remaining Jedi in the Living Force disappear into the air.

In utter disbelief, Rey’s gaze darts around Finn, Leia, Jacen, and Dad. Finn is hardly breathing, Leia’s eyes are watering, and Jacen is standing completely still.

Meanwhile, Dad stumbles forward, past Rey and towards Anakin, who was fading slower than the rest.

“Dad,” he breathes, “I forgive you.”

As Anakin’s face disappears, the last image they receive is him smiling at Dad.

Dad sniffles, staring at nothing. The jungle is unusually quiet, as if the Force is mourning the loss as well.

After a pointed silence, Leia moves forward to stand beside Dad.

“Come on,” she says gently.

Dad straightens his spine. His moment of grief evaporated, he faces Rey.

“How do you feel, honey?” Dad asks, blue eyes concerned. “Do you feel different?”

Rey swallows thickly and bobs her head.

“So it worked,” Leia says, “good. Let’s get the hell out of this place. I don’t like it here.”

Rey figures that’s as much an admission of grief as any. Dad squeezes her hand and lets go, choosing instead to guide Leia back to their landspeeder. Jacen claps her shoulder as well as Finn’s to get them to walk to their own vehicle.

As Jacen drives, he brakes when he reaches a familiar area. He gasps and leaves the engine thrumming. “My comm!”

He hops out of the landspeeder. Rey and Finn watch blankly as Jacen procures his commlink and holds it up with a pleased grin.

“Look at that!” His gaze sweeps across Rey and Finn’s somber expressions. 

He enters the landspeeder again with a pointed frown. Before he hits the gas pedal again, he regards the pair.

“You can’t be sad forever,” he says.

“He deserves a couple minutes,” Finn says, a dangerous edge to his voice, “they all do.”

“Well,” Jacen scoffs, “I refuse to spend the entire drive sitting in silence.” He presses the gas pedal, the landspeeder rocketing forward. Rey and Finn lean back at the jolt. “Their sacrifice was sad, yes, but Rey’s got this, right?”

“Right,” Finn mumbles in agreement.

Rey conceals her expression. Do they all have such unwavering belief in her? That she can win?

Would they all die in her name, like the Rebellion’s soldiers would have for her Dad?

Rey hopes she never has to find out.

————

The Jedi overtake the on-base bar and pour out drinks to honor the sacrifice of the Force ghosts. Since half of the Jedi on base were not present for the proceedings, they are especially despondent.

Finn does not like the reminder, even though it only occurred two hours earlier. He wants to put the instance behind him. 

While that is the old Jedi way, it is not how the Five Jedi Masters deal with trauma. 

Finn is pestered with questions for another hour. He answers them through a clenched jaw as politely as he could. 

None of them would understand his guilt. Again, he got people killed. First his parents, then the soldiers that followed his orders into battle, and now the old Jedi Order. All of them are gone because of him.

While the knowledge lives in Rey, Finn wishes another solution presented itself to him.

Despite the hugs he receives from Luke and Ezra, Finn exits the bar in metaphorical chains. He is weighed down an inch with each step, and not even a dose of liquor helps dull his senses.

A sudden blur of a mechanic’s jumpsuit is followed by a small woman hugging him fiercely. “Finn,” she says, “I just heard about everything. I’m sorry.”

Finn blinks down at the woman’s head as it buries into his chest. “Uh,” he says dumbly, “news travels fast, huh?”

Rose tips her head up, brown eyes glistening. Rose emulates the dual bun hairstyle sported by both Luke and Rey, her usually-messy hair tightly bound.

“Poe’s worried about you,” Rose breathes, “but he’s with his parents and can’t come to see you right away. He said to send you a hug.”

“Parents?” Finn pinches his brows together.

“They arrived this morning,” Rose informs him. “Poe said they’re here because they heard from your parents that you two are dating.”

Finn sighs, “well, there’s nothing I can do about it, huh?”

“Right,” Rose offers a bright smile, “besides, shouldn’t you be getting consoled?”

Finn shrugs. “I’m feeling okay. Thank you.”

“Yayyyy,” Rose lights up, bouncing on her feet, “I’m going to hug Rey now!”

“Yeah,” Finn musters a smile, “do that.”

Rose glides away beaming. Finn finds himself oddly soothed by Rose’s comfort. Even though she is not Force sensitive, her aura is luminous when permitted to shine.

Finn reaches his shared room with Poe. When he enters, he freezes: Poe is eating dinner at their small table with Shara and Kes, his parents.

At the sound of the door whooshing, the oxygen is sucked out of the room. The silence chokes Finn.

As the Damerons turn and look at him, he is dizzy. They assault his senses. He can’t take it.

Clamming up, Finn mumbles, “sorry, didn’t sense you.”

He allows the door to slide shut. He crashes into the opposite wall. Blinking, he walks briskly down the hallway. 

He’s never met Poe’s parents, but one important question throbs in Finn’s mind:

Why hasn’t Poe told them about him?

Finn walks blindly, and before he knows it, he’s in the hangar bay.

“Finn?” A familiar woman prompts.

Oh no.

Finn’s eyes water as the back of his teeth press together hard. He clears his throat to curb his emotions.

He turns sharply to face a concerned Black Squadron.

Jessika repeats, “Finn? Are you okay?”

Finn swallows a lump in his throat. “I don’t know,” he says hollowly, shrugging it off, “it doesn’t matter. I’ll just,” he turns around, “I’ll see you.”

“Finn!”

He jumps at the voice.

Poe enters the hangar bay a stuttering mess. He gasps like he ran the entire way, his face flushed and his curls flopping around his forehead.

“Finn,” he breathes, holding Finn’s hands before he protests, “Finn, I can explain.”

“What,” Snap barks, “what did you do to Finn?”

The feel of Poe’s hands in his own distracts Finn from jolting in surprise.

Why was Poe’s squadron suddenly protective over Finn? Did they hear about his terrible day and take pity on him? Did an unknown person step up to his defense after his interrogation earlier?

Jacen. It was definitely Jacen.

Poe winces at Snap, his wild eyes refusing to tear away from Finn’s face. “Finn,” he starts again desperately, “I wanted to tell them in person, but I waited too long. I know that I waited far too long. I have no excuse. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and the reason,” he pants, “I wasn’t thinking clearly is because,” he swallows thickly before murmuring, “I love you.”

There are gasps from the squadron.

And Finn is delirious. Poe loves him? Really loves him?

“I love you,” Poe breathes, “and I’m sorry that all of this happened at the worst possible time for you.” 

Poe squeezes Finn’s hands, his expression sheepish. It is clear that Poe forgot they were being watched.

“Baby, starshine, light of my life,” Poe asks softly, “can you please find it in your big brave beautiful heart to forgive me?”

Poe’s eyes are begging and awaiting Finn’s answer. Finn has such power over his boyfriend that it’s intoxicating.

Their relationship has been years in the making. Without knowing of the other’s existence, they have been torn apart and reunited throughout their lives. There has to be a reason why they meet again and again. Finn has believed all this time that the Force wants him with Poe. Ezra and Luke have expressed the Force doing the same for them, and it is the only logical explanation.

If the Force wants Finn to be with Poe, he has to examine all that has happened in the early stages of their relationship carefully. Finn has to know that his choice on this matter is the correct one.

Ever since their first kiss, they have rarely received time for themselves. They had missions together, but they were never truly alone on them. There is always a crew of onlookers whenever Finn projects a Force shield to save a reckless Poe in battle, or when Poe clumsily gets captured and Finn has to mind trick the stormtroopers and dispatch them with his lightsaber. They are surveilled every time one of them gets hurt and has to perform first aid on the other, receiving jibes when they share long concerned looks.

Early mornings and late nights in their room is when they can speak without reservation. While the majority of their conversations revolve around Resistance missions, their pillow talks provide stolen moments of true intimacy. Learning about Poe, as well, made Finn appreciate the allowances they were given as high-ranking Resistance officers. 

And Finn has learned so much about Poe. He learned that Poe mixes languages when he’s frustrated, gets haughty and forgetful when he works long shifts, and unexpectedly wallows in mood swings when the room is quiet.

But the good far outweighs the bad. Poe is unfiltered in his passions, throwing all of his energy into piloting, leading his squadron and the Resistance to the best of his ability, and vehemently expressing how important Finn was to him through his tactile nature and inventive pet names. A brush of shoulders here, a thumbing of dirt away from a stray cheek there. And his lips always whisper ‘starlight, sunshine, my Loth-wolf, my king, my sweet.’ 

Poe is a hurricane of activity, but his winds are light and loving, the hand offered to an officer to help them out of a sinkhole. Poe has endured plenty, but he is unfaltering in his morality. He would do anything for anyone. Not because it’s his job, but because he cares.

Poe really, really cares. About everyone.

How can Finn deny such an open heart? A heart that bleeds and begs for his forgiveness?

Poe sees Finn’s own flaws and loves them all the same. Finn’s flaws are far worse than Poe’s in his opinion. 

Finn is an overachiever. He hates when he cannot reach his high expectations for himself. He gets in a sour mood when these limitations infect his thoughts, making it nearly impossible to hold a conversation with him when he was in too deep. He shut himself off sometimes, and all Poe did was wait until Finn was ready to talk.

Oh, Poe. Ridiculously patient Poe…

Stupidly endearing Poe. Sweet, dashing, beautiful Poe.

Poe is everything to him. Deep down, Finn knows that Poe is perfect for him.

So, Finn finally concludes: a misunderstanding is grounds enough for forgiveness.

“I do,” Finn mumbles.

Poe grins like Finn made his entire life. “Thank you. Now will you please come with me?”

Finn bobs his head and Poe guides him away with one hand. They exit the hangar and Poe pauses them in the hallway.

“Okay,” Poe says uncertainly, “I don’t want to pressure you because we’ve both had a long day, but my parents are waiting and-”

“Only if you promise,” Finn says, “I get to cuddle with you afterwards.”

Poe beams. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Finn says, “obviously.”

Poe squeezes Finn’s hand and leads him down the hallway. The pair laughs as they return to their room.

That night, Finn successfully gets Shara Bey and Kes Dameron to love him. And he cuddles with Poe on the couch, as promised, and falls asleep halfway through a holofilm.


	18. Age 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey double-knotted the dress strap around her neck and pulled up her hair. It coiled in a braided bun, staying in place due to borrowed flame lily pins from Dad.
> 
> It was Rey’s hope that she would learn the special meaning of these pins on this trip, whether through a direct inquiry or an encounter with the Force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on a partially-aborted storyline where the new generation doesn’t know very much about the war their parents fought. I decided to keep it, though, because Rey’s memories leave plenty of gaps in her overall knowledge. I also added in canon divergence scenes for AOTC.
> 
> I understand that Lothalite is the correct term for someone from Lothal, but Lothalian just sounds better to me.

Rey’s thoughts were a jumbled mess of activity. Ever since she learned what she had to do to restore balance to the Force, her mind told her that she required knowledge of her ancestry, of her family’s past, in order to face Snoke. 

Rey was happy to follow the Force’s will on this front. Information has been withheld from her. She had to know about the wars her grandparents and parents fought.

When returning to Naboo came up as an option, Dad and Papa leaped at the chance to return to her grandmother’s ancestral home. 

Since the three of them were going, Finn wanted to come along to revisit the property. And since Finn was going, Poe wanted to tag along too. The workaholic General didn’t need much persuasion to divide his work amongst the war veterans remaining on the Ajan Kloss base and take a vacation.

When the Tantive VII lands at Varykino, Rey is greeted by the Naberries. She rushes down the ramp and into the arms of the eldest woman in the procession. 

“Sabé!” Rey smiles into her shoulder. “You look wonderful!”

Sabé holds her for a moment. “Look at you, honey.” Her voice takes on a somber note. “All grown up.”

Rey is torn away from Sabé by Ryoo, who brushes back her stray hairs. “I see you’re taking hair advice from your parents,” Ryoo mumbles, poking at her triple buns.

Pooja hugs her, the woman saying warmly, “I’m so happy to see you, Rey of sunshine.”

Lola smiles and waves behind Pooja. Rey waves back.

Rey receives a final hug from Sola, as well as a kiss on the cheek. “You’re as beautiful as ever, darling,” Sola murmurs, “let’s see if we can persuade you to wear our clothing.”

Rey smiles impishly. “I can’t stop you.”

Sola beams. “Hear that?” The Naberries share mischievous smirks. “It’s our turn, ladies.”

Pooja squeals in excitement. Rey regrets saying yes already.

-

Rey holds up the thin fabric gathered around her waist. She furrows her brows in the mirror as the scratchy silk falls from her finger pads and curves in a cascading cloud around her upper legs.

She isn’t used to having bare legs. Static air tickles her skin, the dress swishing with the breeze when she moved an infantile amount.

The ombré material of the dress was altered to shorten from ankle to knee, but it was the same colors as a summer dress belonging to her grandmother. The color scheme went from a pale yellow strap around her neck to baby pink at her midriff and violet around her thighs. The dress sleeves are cut off to bare Rey’s athletic arms, but styled like a waterfall down her front. 

Rey double-knotted the dress strap around her neck and pulled up her hair. It coiled in a braided bun, staying in place due to borrowed flame lily pins from Dad.

It was Rey’s hope that she would learn the special meaning of these pins on this trip, whether through a direct inquiry or an encounter with the Force.

Rey surveys her reflection. She imagines the bedroom she is in being her grandmother’s, this very mirror and dress being her grandmother’s, and she has no idea how to feel about it.

The mirror shimmers in a holographic quality. Squinting, Rey watches as an image reflects back at her.

The bedroom behind the mirror is from another planet; the walls are marble white with expansive scenes carved throughout the surface. Rey does not recognize any of the creatures and fauna depicted on the walls, nor the styles of maroon furniture to the left and a pearly bedspread off to the right.

A figure comes into focus, and Rey inhales sharply.

Flame lily pins glitter in shoulder-length golden hair. The ornate clothing he wears is not a sight she is treated to anymore, a cape dangling from the end of his bed and a silver-ruby crown settled on top of it. While he is dressed down, he exudes a beauty and opulence that is only furthered by his dazed smile.

Dad undoes the pins in his hair, unclipping them one-by-one and setting them on the vanity. His gaze is to the side of Rey’s shoulder, a blush coloring his youthful cheeks.

The door behind Dad receives a knock. ‘Your Highness?’ 

Dad pauses halfway through his task, his hair a curtain defining a delicate cheek. ‘Yes?’

The door opens, revealing Papa in uniform. He steps inside the room, Dad turning on his seat to compensate for his arrival.

For Rey, Papa is the waiter to Dad’s Duke.

‘The last of the guests have departed,’ Papa says, stopping in the middle of the bedroom. There is an edge to his voice as he reports, ‘you made quite the impression.’

Dad’s profile frowns. ‘Is something the matter?’

Papa’s expression is tight and reserved. ‘No, Your Highness.’

‘I know when you’re lying to me,’ Dad says curtly, ‘so out with it.’

Papa crosses his arms. His eyes are hard and judgemental.

He says, ‘I have a very bad feeling about him. Don’t trust anything he tells you.’

Dad turns back to the mirror. His expression betrays hurt and anger.

‘Well,’ Dad says sharply, ‘you don’t even know him.’

‘I know enough.’

Dad whirls around, fiery eyes flashing so effectively that Papa steps back. Dad takes advantage of the beat to reply, ‘what you sense doesn’t exist. If he were untrustworthy,’ he sounds out the syllables like they’re curse words, ‘wouldn’t I sense it too?’

Papa clenches his jaw. Any argument he could muster is not voiced. Instead, he glares at Dad and stomps away, slamming a nearby door.

Dad sighs into the mirror and continues undoing his flame lily pins. They clink against the vanity as he clears his throat. He is hit with his previous delirium in less than a minute, and he smiles.

The mirror shifts, another image sweeping over the surface like a tidal wave. Dad is still in front of a mirror, ghostly pale and clad entirely in black. His face is tired and gaunt. He sighs as he pins a flame lily brooch to his lapel.

Arms snake around Dad’s waist. Papa’s chin comes down to hook over Dad’s shorn hair.

Papa is strangely muted in his mood as he murmurs, ‘it’s time.’

Dad worries the side of his mouth. His voice is thin and reedy. ‘I’ve forgotten how many memorial speeches I’ve given. Do you remember?’

Papa tilts his head to press a long kiss to Dad’s hair. He opts not to speak in the silence.

After a moment, his hands slip away from Dad’s waist. Papa steps to the side and offers a hand. Dad does not hesitate to take it as he is guided away from the mirror.

When the image fades, there is a knock on the door. Rey snaps her head away from the mirror at last, slowly clearing her mind. 

Pooja’s voice trills behind the door. “Dinner will be ready in a moment, dear.”

Rey chooses not to wear the makeup options that Ryoo set out for her on the vanity. Stepping away from the mirror in a pair of Lola’s ballet shoes, she opens the door.

“By Shiraya,” Pooja gasps, wide eyes flickering across her features, “you look just like your grandmother!”

Rey ensures her mouth is pressed in a thin line to seem nonplussed.

“Oh,” Pooja grasps her hand excitedly, “I can’t wait until they see you!”

Pooja ushers Rey down a set of winding stairs. The former Senator wears an orchid dress with jeweled necklaces decorating her person. Her graying hair is loose and free, cascading down her back.

They reach the bottom of the stairs. Pooja leads Rey through an archway.

“Everybody look at this woman!” Pooja exclaims, loud enough for conversations in the sitting room to cease.

“AHHH!” Papa claps his hands over his mouth and rises in shock. His eyes water. “Is that my baby?” Papa’s hands fall from his face as he advances, sniffling to combat his teary eyes. “Ohhhh wow.” Papa takes the hand that Pooja dropped, dark blue eyes awash in emotion. “Look at her, Luke. We made her!”

“Ew,” Rey wrinkles her nose, “you ruined it.” She pulls a face as Papa snickers.

“I happen to think you look terrible,” Finn jokes.

Rey advances, smacking his knee so he bowls against the couch from laughing too hard. Poe, who curls up beside Finn, rolls his eyes at their behavior.

“Rude,” Rey comments, whirling away from Finn and Poe.

She receives a teary look from Dad, a smirk from Ryoo, and a thumbs up from Lola. On the opposite side of the spectrum, Sola steps forward and rests her hands on her shoulders.

Her brown eyes settle on Rey. “While you look like her,” Sola says, “the dress suits you more than it did for her. You look absolutely lovely, dear.”

The waitstaff, hired only for special occasions, arrive to tell them the meal is prepared. Rey distracts herself from the onslaught of projected emotions by focusing on dinner.

-

Still wearing the dress, Rey criss-crosses on the library couch with her favorite bedtime story in her lap.

“The Duke and the Waiter,” she sighs to herself.

Before she can open the book, a vision of a woman about her age flutters before her eyes. The woman has pale skin, beauty marks on her cheek, curly chocolate hair bound by a metal coil, delicate pink lips, and bright brown eyes. She wears the original version of the ombré dress that Rey wears, bound together by a metal necklace, fabric covering her entire body except for bare shoulders. Fluttering sleeves cover her lower arms as she regards the bookshelves.

Rey follows her eyeline, and she gasps.

A tall young man, cloaked in brown robes with a sandy braid cast over his hood, rifles through a bookshelf near the fireplace, which crackles in the memory but is cold and dead in Rey’s time. The man, whose back is to Rey and the woman, thumbs through a series of ivy-backed books denoting the nature section. Rey catches the woman’s gaze, full of uneasiness at the man shuffling through items that hold personal value to her.

As Rey formulates the thought, the young man glances sheepishly at the woman. A book tumbles from the shelf and lands in his instinctive grasp. He clutches it tightly and winces at the woman’s stare.

‘Oh!’ The young man holds the book, his nerves evening out at her surprise entrance. ‘I-I’m sorry, Senator. I should have asked before I came in here snooping around your things. I-I,’ he hugs the book, ‘I can put this back if you want me to, Senator. I’m sorry.’

As he makes to place the book back in its empty space on the shelf, the woman’s rich voice verbalizes, ‘it’s alright, Anakin. I am simply…’

When she does not complete her sentence, lips pursing in contemplation, he prompts, ‘what?’

‘Surprised,’ she parses out, ‘I am surprised that a Padawan would be interested in reading ancient texts, especially-’

‘Me?’ Anakin bats his lashes, turning to face her. He grabs the book again. ‘I usually don’t. I-I just,’ his eyes flicker down in nervousness and back up, ‘I was not given an end date to our time here, Senator Amidala. I figured I should learn more about your planet.’

Rey realizes this was one of her grandparents’ first conversations where Anakin fumbles for a way to impress a regal woman. It is in the way Padmé stands, the way she walks and talks and regards others with a stare that is neither cruel nor gentle. Padmé is the epitome of Nubian royalty, one of the last remnants of the House Naberrie bloodline. 

‘I see,’ Padmé says amenably, ‘if you would like any information not provided in a book, you may ask me directly.’

Anakin bristles. ‘I-I can?’

Padmé offers a half-smile. ‘Certainly. It would take my mind off of...everything.’

Anakin gulps, bobbing his head. ‘Okay, Senator. I...thank you, Senator.’

Padmé breezes away in her summer dress, Anakin eyeing her as if she was an idol, an angel to be cherished on a pedestal.

The memory fades. Setting her old book down on the couch, Rey rises to her feet. Her dress sashays as she moves across the library with bare feet.

If she receives a memory in each place she goes, she needs to keep moving around Varykino.

Since it is late at night, Rey dips into the Force. Finn and Poe are asleep in a shared room. She senses Sola, Pooja, Ryoo, and Lola asleep as well, but her parents are not yet. 

Rey is used to their shared insomnia, so she pays their Force presences no mind as she enters the bedroom she spent five years sleeping in before moving to Lothal. 

Drawn to the glass door, she opens it with a creak of white-painted wood. Rey steps onto the balcony, studying the luminescence of the starry sky. 

Before she reaches the edge of the balcony, Anakin stands looking over it. He is clad in an airy beige tunic, the shade complimenting his tan-pink complexion and sandy hair.

Padmé steps through her, a holographic mirage that causes Rey to gasp. Padmé is not a Force ghost, but the memory holds the same quality.

‘Your nightmares,’ Padmé says, ‘they’re getting worse, aren’t they?’

Anakin reveals his profile over his shoulder. It is sunrise in the memory, highlighting a blush on his cheeks.

The shift between the previous memory and this one is plainly apparent: it is the difference between courtship and closing the distance, an obvious attraction and acting upon it despite the consequences.

‘I know my duty,’ Anakin says decisively, ‘I know that your protection comes above all else.’

Padmé steps forward in a cream-colored nightgown and a navy shawl. ‘No one is going to assassinate me here,’ she says, ‘even as Queen, even as a Senator on Coruscant, I knew I would be safe.’ She rocks on her sandalled feet as she takes another step forward. ‘I don’t want to stay here if you know that your mother is in danger. It is my duty to help those in need.’

Anakin’s braid dusts his shoulder as he sighs in contemplation. ‘I’m going to be in so much trouble.’

Padmé smiles. It is a childish smile, a carefree and foolhardy smile. It is a girlish smile, the kind of smile that causes Anakin Skywalker to betray the Jedi; Rey knows of their old belief in forbidding love. While the belief was ridiculous, Rey sees danger in Padmé’s smile, the appeal to disobey and follow her into the flames.

‘I won’t tell if you won’t,’ Padmé says.

Rey registers Anakin’s head tilt, the way his blue eyes squint, and then, his echo of a smile.

The vision leaves her, and Rey is encapsulated in darkness on the balcony. 

Since she is by no means finished in her inquiries with the Force, she chooses a location at random. She wanders the hallways with silent footsteps, the lightness to her dress fabric helping her fluid movements. 

She descends the winding staircase towards the sitting room, hearing a binary beeping outside. Narrowing her eyes, she reaches the sliding door on the side of the house. She does not recall walking through it before, so she opens it.

Rey visualizes the balcony painted the color of desert sand, a set of steps to the left leading down to the flower fields. A sun roof casts a shadow on the space; it takes Rey several bounds to reach the edge. Ornate vases of Millaflowers and the Queen’s Heart line the ledge. Trellises of ivy greenery extend downwards to the fields, a ladder to be climbed.

As Rey turns away from the moonlit sight, a memory takes up the space she vacated. The binary beep returns, and she whirls to her right.

‘Artoo,’ Anakin materializes in brown robes, laughing at the astromech that has apparently been in Rey’s family for generations, ‘now’s not the time to get excited. She’s not ready yet!’

‘Oh!’ Rey whirls around to see Threepio fussing at the open balcony door. ‘She is here, Master Anakin!’

‘Oh,’ Anakin flushes, clearing his throat, ‘proceed then, Artoo.’

The astromech whirrs and clicks on his holo recorder function. Rey backpedals towards the stairs as if Artoo could see her, though she knows none of them can.

Threepio trots towards Artoo and Anakin on the balcony. The door slides open as Padmé glides through.

Rey can hear the air getting sucked out of Anakin’s lungs.

It is sunset. Padmé’s pearl-laced wedding gown reflects the blood orange light peering from the balcony. She glides as the train catches against the floor, and Anakin’s mouth is parted in complete awe.

Padmé smiles as she moves effortlessly to stand across from Anakin. The sunset emboldens her into something statuesque.

All Anakin does is clamp his mouth shut and offer her a hello smile.

Padmé smiles back, a glint in her eyes, as if understanding she caught him unaware.

A preacher walks through Rey and stands between the couple. Artoo and Threepio record the event.

When her grandparents kiss, the sunset lighting a blaze, the wedding fades and Rey is alone on the balcony.

Rey reenters Varykino and walks through hallways, musing on the general knowledge she received. Her grandmother was a Queen and the Senator of Naboo. There were assassination attempts made on her, so she was brought to Varykino for its remote location. Her grandfather was a young Jedi trainee assigned as her bodyguard. The two fell in love at this house and eloped, a secret that Varykino still kept.

Until now.

Rey does not realize she made it to the Varykino foyer until a memory materializes. She stands and waits, eyes wide in anticipation.

The door opens in the memory. A broad-shouldered and copper-skinned man with facial hair enters. He wears formal maroon clothing, the Imperial insignia pinned on his breast. A pearl cape trails down his tall form, contrasting sharply with gelled black hair and a golden crown.

Trailing on either side of him are two teenage boys. One wears a crown on his golden head, clad in a flashy white that drowned out his complexion. His eyes are dull blue, exhaustion permeating from him to the older man. The boy’s cape is similar to the older man’s, the only difference being a symbol of an unfamiliar bird on the back, visible when he turns at an angle.

The other boy, however, is not tired. He is restrained and reserved, but not tired. His blue eyes are bright and dart around the foyer as if searching for a sign of danger. His raven hair is tamed with gel, and he is a carbon copy of the older man. He wears a maroon outfit with the same bird on the breast pocket. A weapon is in a holster at the boy’s belt, and Rey inhales sharply at the observation. 

The shadows of darkness that indicate it is midnight in Rey’s time disappear. The front windows encapsulate the room in late afternoon sunlight, blazing hot.

And Rey realizes she’s seeing Bail Organa and her parents.

Bail whirls, his cape fluttering as he looks down in concern at Dad and Papa. They both stop in their tracks, Dad looking up at Bail warily while Papa straightens and awaits his words.

Bail focuses on Dad. ‘You did well today,’ he says, ‘but you are far from safe.’

‘I know,’ Dad says with a bowed head, ‘my youth speech was foolish.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Papa counters, catching Dad’s attention at his steadfastness, ‘you did a lot of good. I will take the fall with you, Your Highness.’

Dad stares for a moment, eyes wide before he tears his gaze away.

‘We should prepare for dinner,’ Bail decides, cape shifting as he makes for the marble staircase on the side of the main chamber. ‘Both of you need to change within the hour, understood?’

‘Yes, Dad,’ Dad says.

‘Yes, Your Highness,’ Papa chimes.

Bail ascends the staircase. Papa moves to face Dad.

‘Is there anything you require of me before we go to your rooms, Your Highness?’ Papa asks earnestly.

Dad surveys the foyer. His tired gray-blue eyes linger on the front door, the windows, the staircase, the shut doors leading to separate sections of Varykino.

Deeming it safe, Dad tips his head to regard the taller boy. ‘Ezra…’

Papa recoils in his guard uniform. His voice comes out like a hiss. ‘Don’t say my name here.’

Dad’s lashes flutter downwards. Pained expressions are on both of their faces, but they refuse to acknowledge their shared agony.

How long have they been in love with each other? How long did they wait? How long did they suffer?

Is this before their fight in the mirror, or after?

Rey wants to know everything, drink up the information greedily as if she has never had a drop of water.

‘Dante,’ Dad murmurs, ‘is the Emperor going to destroy us all?’

Papa tilts his head to the side, shaking his head after a couple beats of consideration.

His voice is soft when he replies, ‘you’ve got him off your back for now. And what’s a life if you’re living it in fear?’

Dad nods slowly. ‘That’s what I thought. Thank you, Dante.’

Dad turns and ascends the staircase, cape trailing two steps behind him. Papa follows him carefully, looking around for anything out of the ordinary as they fade into the past.

Rey is greeted with silence, and her mind reels in the darkness. She whirls her head to the archway behind her, blinking rapidly as the information absorbs. 

She still has questions, so Rey decides to switch rooms. As she reaches the piano chamber, she hears music inviting her inside.

Dad and Aunt Leia appear beside each other on the piano bench. Leia frowns in concentration while Dad’s fingers trail across keys.

‘It’s not for everyone,’ Dad chimes with a chuckle, ‘it was just a way for me to learn discipline.’

Leia stares at the keys like she wants to murder them. ‘I’ve never even seen one of these things until I came here.’ Her voice is bitter. ‘I suppose I was too poor.’

Dad bites the inside of his cheek. ‘You know, Leia,’ he faces Leia as much as he can, ‘there are stipulations to being rich.’

‘I know,’ Leia sighs, ‘I just...why did I get the farm? Why did I have to live on Tatooine? Why did you get a palace?’

Rey advances towards the piano in shock as Dad says, ‘the palace that you’re so envious of does not exist anymore.’ His voice softens as his finger accidentally hits a sharp key. ‘It’s only in my memories.’

Leia winces. ‘I know that, Luke. I can’t imagine what that must feel like. Of course I can’t. I guess,’ she huffs, ‘I guess I sound like a kid to you for wanting the life you had.’

Dad narrows his eyes, lifting them from the keys, hands clutching in his lap. 

‘Leia,’ he beseeches, ‘trust me,’ his laugh is wet and broken, ‘you don’t want my life.’ Dad exhales to gain control of his spilling emotions. ‘You don’t want my life,’ he whispers.

‘Luke,’ Leia frowns again, ‘wasn’t it you who keeps telling me not to conceal my emotions, to let them out? Guess you’re a hypocrite, huh?’

Dad sniffles.

‘I’m your sister,’ Leia encourages, ‘you can talk to me.’

Dad blinks to clear his misty eyes. ‘You don’t want my life,’ he repeats, ‘I don’t think you would take too kindly to bounty hunters trying to assassinate you, watching every word that comes out of your mouth so you aren’t beheaded by Sith Lords, and living with the guilt of an entire nation destroyed right in front of you.’

‘No,’ Leia says glibly, ‘I wouldn’t take too kindly to any of that.’ Her voice is hard and determined. ‘I wouldn’t have taken an inch of that blame.’

‘So you’d willingly get yourself killed,’ Dad shrugs, ‘as expected. I didn’t have that option.’

‘But,’ Leia smirks, ‘you had someone important to get you through it all, right? A certain,’ she nudges his shoulder with her arm, ‘Lothalian?’

Dad flushes. ‘I would have gone mad if he wasn’t by my side through everything. I cannot express that enough to you, Leia.’

Leia rolls her eyes at the pointed stare. ‘I get it. You’re rooting for me and everything. Stop it. I’m trying to get you to talk about your trauma!’

Dad half-smiles. ‘I’m used to the weight, Leia. As long as I have all of you, I’m okay.’

‘Are you sure?’ Leia tilts her head to the side. ‘I don’t believe you.’

Dad sighs, ‘I mean it, Leia. All that’s happened to me, all that’s happened in this war...it will be worth it when it’s over. I can feel it.’

Leia purses her lips and nods. Against her usual attitude, she casts both arms around Dad’s middle. Dad chuckles into a side hug as their heads rest together.

They fade on the empty piano bench, Rey exhaling deeply.

She leaves the piano chamber after a moment of hesitation. She waits for another indication from the Force, but it offers no other memories for her consumption.

Walking upstairs, Rey is buffeted by dawn light streaming through the curtains. She spent the entire night wandering around Varykino looking into the past. And yet, while she expects to be tired from not sleeping, she is wide awake. Has been since she arrived on Naboo.

Rey glides down the hallway, sensing her parents awaken from a short sleep cycle. Passing by Finn and Poe’s door, she senses her brother waking up as well.

Rey enters her bedroom and plops on the mattress. She meditates for a solid hour, going over what she learned. 

Replaying the memory of her grandparents’ wedding, Rey discovers a way for her to learn even more.

She smiles at the idea. It will work perfectly, if what she guesses to be true has potential.

Rey exits the bedroom in her dress. She passes by ajar doorways, hearing Finn’s confused “Rey?” and Papa’s “what is it, honey?”

Rey reaches the staircase and fluidly descends the spiral. She seeks the mechanical being that arrived on Varykino with them. 

She finds the astromech plugged into the parlor room charger. With the swish of her skirts, she crouches by the droid. She unplugs him from his socket with a complete charge, switching him on. 

“Rey,” Dad plods into the room, “what’s the matter, honey?”

Papa trails behind him, asking, “is something wrong?”

Finn and Poe linger in the doorway. Poe crosses his arms and chooses not to say anything. Finn sends her a demanding stare that does the talking for him.

The blue and white astromech whirrs and beeps to life, garnering Rey’s complete attention.

“Artoo,” Rey says, “I know that you have everything in your databanks. Everything. You know what I’m talking about.” 

She sits on the carpet in a criss-cross position, a meditative stance. 

“Show me,” she pleads, “please.”

Artoo exclaims in binary, ‘it’s about time someone asked!’

Rey laughs through watery eyes. She’s so glad her assumption is right!

Rey says without turning around, “if any of you don’t want to see the history of our family, leave me here.”

“What?” Dad’s confusion seeps in his voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rey scoots so that she is horizontal with Artoo against a wall. “Our family history,” she gestures to Artoo, “he knows it all. You can either stay here and learn with me, or you can close the door.”

Making an evasive decision, Finn grabs the door and winks at Rey. He shuts the door behind him and Poe, trapping Dad and Papa inside the parlor.

“Okay,” Rey smiles as her parents balk, “it’s time to learn how to end this war. Care to join me?”

Silently, Dad and Papa stride over. They sit next to Rey, leaning their backs against the wall. 

Artoo turns on his holo projector.


	19. Age 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they meet in the middle, a safe distance between them, Kylo uses the Force to create a barrier against the rain. Rey crosses her arms and narrows her eyes.
> 
> “What do you want?” She asks roughly.
> 
> Ben clasps his hands behind his back, Kanan’s preferred stance. “I’m here to tell you how to end the war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Alarm clock rings loudly*
> 
> Welcome to TROS, my masterpiece of pain.

Kylo Ren sits in a meditative position on his bed, helmet off and hood lowered against his upper back. He senses every footfall as the man he is waiting for approaches, every steady beat of his heart and every tilt of his head to scold an idle stormtrooper. 

Kylo left the door unlocked, so it slides open when the uniformed man lingers in front of it. He enters and locks the door behind him.

Ben smirks. “Did they find it?”

General Hux removes his cap, sitting on the bed bench. His red-haired profile nods once, his salient eyes shining affectionately.

“It was seamless,” Hux muses, “how did you know where they were hiding?”

Ben points to his temple.

Hux hums. “You’re one of the best double agents I’ve ever encountered.”

Ben’s eyes glitter. “Is that a compliment, dear?”

Hux huffs at the tone. “You should get to Fentakka.”

“Is that an order, Admiral?” Ben teases.

Hux rises from the bench, placing his cap back on. His eyes harden.

“Phasma has been tailing me for a while now,” he reveals, “what should I do about her?”

“Nothing,” Ben shrugs indifferently, “it doesn’t matter whether she knows or not.”

Hux clasps his hands behind his back to restrain himself; he wants to come closer, but duty trumps all else. 

“Ben,” he says, “I’ve…adored committing high treason with you.”

Ben replies, “be careful. I won’t be here to protect you.”

Hux unlocks the door. He is far down the hallway before the door slides shut.

————

“This is a trap,” Poe says through Rey’s comm.

“This trap might as well be a screaming Sith Lord yelling ‘trap!’” Finn adds from the couple’s position in the Tantive VII.

Rey flies her borrowed X-wing into the Fentakka atmosphere. The Endor system’s darkest moon was encompassed in a constant state of gloomy dusk. The surface was composed of oceans and a dotting of native island settlements. The rainstorm in the lower atmosphere was making it difficult to fly, but Rey managed.

“I’m in position,” Jacen patches into the Resistance comm system from the ground.

“So am I,” Shira says, her sniper rifle loading a cartridge.

“He’s not here yet,” Paige reports, Rey catching sight of the tent to survey the area on a rocky island.

“He could be using a cloaking device,” Rose chirps. “With all of us here, why wouldn’t he?”

“He wanted to talk to us,” Poe reminds them, “so he should feel the heat.”

Rey banks low over the oceans, gray masses of the Second Death Star sticking up like immovable boulders against the tide. The rain thickens as she approaches, the Dark Side perfuming the steel remnants that are a vein in Fentakkan culture.

The onyx shine of a starfighter catches Rey’s eye, and she flicks on her comm. “I see him.”

“Set weapons to stun,” Finn instructs.

“Yes, Generals,” Jacen snickers.

Rey brakes her starfighter near some Death Star debris. It is still against the surging tidal waves, saltwater lining the edges.

“I’m making my descent,” Rey informs.

She lands the X-wing smoothly on the edge of the debris. She senses Kylo do the same, the cloaking device fading from his TIE fighter. He touches down on the opposite side of the debris.

“I’m going off comms,” Rey warns, “don’t shoot unless he makes the first provocation.”

“Hear that, trigger fingers?” Poe projects into the comm systems. “Stay in line.”

Rey hears mumbled “yes, Generals” that make her snort. She loves that everyone teases Finn and Poe for morphing into the same person.

Kylo’s starfighter hatch opens, and he climbs out of the TIE sans helmet and weapons. When she sees his harsh features, jagged scar, and thick black hair, she frowns.

Every time she sees him, he looks completely different. 

Ben grew up. He was an adult now, and his family missed it. In that time, he was forced to feed on ashes rather than water. Whatever he had faced in his time away, no one was privy to his knowledge. 

But his power was boundless; Rey senses the breadth of his ability alongside her own.

Rey pushes open the X-wing plexiglass, tucking her double-sided lightsaber into her orange jumpsuit. Despite Kylo not having a weapon, she wasn’t foolish enough to go without one.

She hops out of the X-wing and walks across the clanging steel debris, her loose hair and helmetless face soaking from the pounding rain. With his face exposed, Ben’s expression is drawn and hesitant.

When they meet in the middle, a safe distance between them, Kylo uses the Force to create a barrier against the rain. Rey crosses her arms and narrows her eyes.

“What do you want?” She asks roughly.

Ben clasps his hands behind his back, Kanan’s preferred stance. “I’m here to tell you how to end the war.”

Rey blinks at his naturally-deep voice. “We know how to end the war already.”

Kylo tilts his head. “By delving into the past? By learning all the wisdom that you can fit in your mind? That only goes so far, Rey.”

Rey clenches her jaw. “I’ll defeat you. Both of you.”

“You don’t need to defeat me,” Kylo says, “I’ll help you willingly. It’s why I sent you the message.”

“Why do you want to help us?” Rey says bitterly. “Why now?” 

“Because Snoke is becoming very powerful,” Kylo informs, “and we have to move now.”

“We?” Rey scoffs. “There is no ‘we’ anymore.”

“Of course there is,” Kylo chuckles, “you’ve only forgotten.”

Rey steps back; she is affronted.

A memory trickles into her mind like a dripping water pipe. She used to play holochess with Ben; it was the only game he enjoyed perfecting.

There has to be a reason why Rey is remembering this right now… 

“I have no excuse for my behavior,” Ben says, “but know this: I know myself. I know that I am flawed and united with the Dark. I know that I will never be the same as I was on Lothal. And yet,” his voice is passionate, “I am not Snoke’s mindless henchmen like the Knights of Ren. I have free will. I have freedom. And I can help you end this. I can help you break the circle.”

Rey remembers being inside Ben’s body at the Temple when she learned Snoke could contact him. The circular pattern on the chamber floor was splintered, and Rey did not know why his gaze lingered on it for so long.

But it is the key to everything. Breaking the cycle is the way to win the game. Ben recognized that years ago, and deliberately set his own plans into motion.

Rey does not want to believe his words, but she looks into the Force. She sees the glimmer of Light within Ben’s shadow of an aura. It is well-hidden and cloaked in smoke, but the Light is there.

The boy that she taught to play holochess is still in there. 

And he’s telling her to remember.

‘Chewie told me once,’ Rey said to an eager young Ben in the Falcon, a holochess board between them, ‘that the aim of the game is to immerse yourself in the world,’ her hands sweep across the cacophony of holo pieces as if casting a spell, ‘and discover the best solution to defeat your opponent.’

The realization has Rey gasping, sucking in half-hyperventilated inhales and forcing out drawn-out shaky exhales.

“You never,” Rey breathes in disbelief, “you never Fell to the Dark Side. Not completely. You,” her eyes widen, “you did this on purpose. All of this.”

She shakes her head. The implications of this were so terrible and unbelievable that she was struggling to regulate her faculties.

“You,” Rey breathes, “you made Jacen hurt you in that duel. You wanted that scar so Snoke would know you’re dedicated to destroying the Jedi. You hurt Poe and Finn for the same reason; you didn’t want him questioning your loyalty. You burned villages to make him think you were loyal to the Dark, but you don’t kill. You hurt, but you don’t kill anyone.”

With a flash, Rey has another realization.

“And that means the work my Papa did with Time changed something,” she gasps, “it wasn’t supposed to change anything, but it did. It changed you.”

Rey’s mind reels. Rey and Ezra’s future visions always show Ben as a murderous Kylo Ren with no hope of returning to the Light. 

Everything Ben has done ever since he left them was calculated to account for their safety. Rey has no doubt that some of her friends and family would have died without intervention.

And yet, the safety of the Resistance resorted in pain and bloodshed. Ben was not all-powerful; he couldn’t save them every time, but he was doing his best to make it so.

Ben inclines his head, mouth curving into a half-smile. “Now you get it. Now you understand.”

“You spread fear,” Rey wants to cry, “so that you don’t have to do any of the killing. You make the stormtroopers do it.”

“The troopers don’t know any better,” Ben says sadly, “they’re brainwashed child soldiers, no matter how old they become.”

“What about your lackeys? Phasma and Hux?”

“Phasma is Phasma,” Ben says, “a mistreated woman who wants the galaxy to pay. As for Hux,” he pauses, like he wants to reveal something, but he goes with, “he is on my side.”

“What?!”

“How do you think you received my message? How do you think we let you go so often? Tell me,” Ben’s black eyes glitter, “why did we retreat on Crait when we had every single advantage against the Resistance?”

Everything lines up. It all fits perfectly.

Like a puzzle.

“There she is,” Ben smiles, “you taught me that, Rey. It’s all about the bigger picture. If my aura must be corrupted in the process, so be it. As long as Darth Plagueis is erased from the galaxy, I don’t care what happens to me.”

“You should,” Rey finds herself saying, “you should care about what happens to you. I do. Your parents do. Your family does.”

At the mention of Leia and Han, Ben wavers. “I believe that you do,” he says carefully, “but I don’t know about anybody else.”

“Of course they miss you!” Rey beseeches. “Your parents have seen their mistakes and been drowning in their own guilt ever since!”

Ben frowns, but says nothing else on the subject. “I’m glad I could remind you of something. Your belief in hopeless cases has always been one of your...better qualities.”

Rey grimaces. “Are you still bitter that I can beat you on the mat, Ben Skywalker-Solo?”

Ben snorts in place of an outright laugh. “Our fighting skills are why I wanted to speak with you.”

“Is that right?” Rey eyes him hesitantly. “You want me to kill Snoke. Is that it?”

“I want the two of us,” Ben corrects, “to kill Snoke together. Combining your knowledge of the Light and my alignment with the Dark, we can win, Rey.”

“There is no winning in war,” Rey contemplates.

“But war is a game,” Ben counters, “it is a game I have been playing alone amongst predators that could slice my throat if they smelled a traitor,” he hisses, “and I did it all willingly. You know why? Because I knew that you would save me! Because I knew that you wouldn’t give up! Because...because…”

As Ben loses his fire in the speech, Rey asks, “because what?”

“Because,” Ben breathes shakily, “because I knew it had to be done if any of you had a chance of living through this war.”

He clamps his mouth shut, the brightness in his eyes flickering like a half-extinguished candle. His agony is apparent in his intense expression, the way he stands on edge and fades at the declaration.

Rey senses what lies between the lines, and she hates that she wants to either scream or wail.

“Ben,” Rey says, “I will make sure you don’t die for this. I promise.”

“Don’t promise that,” Ben growls, “no one can make that promise.”

“Anakin Skywalker returned to the Light before his death, forgiven for his wrongdoings,” Rey points out, “if there is hope for Darth Vader, there is hope for you.”

“Rey,” Ben looks away, “don’t put your hope in that. Please. I only see this ending one way.”

“I see the two of us restoring balance to the Force,” Rey emphasizes. “I see you living in the grey, Ben.”

Ben registers the steel in her eyes and smiles like the little boy Rey remembered in the Lothal Temple, the boy who played with toy starfighters and restlessly scaled the walls when no Masters were looking and sat with her family making puzzles.

“I believe that you see that,” Ben says, “but it doesn’t stop fate. We have to go to Exegol. Together. Before Plagueis grows too strong.”

Rey senses his urgency, and she asks suspiciously, “is there something that Snoke is planning?”

Ben nods slowly. “He’s going to send out his final fleet of execution dreadnaughts tomorrow. He calls them the Final Order.”

“Tomorrow?!”

“I just found out about them myself,” Ben says apologetically, “the double agents on my side are in danger if I am caught with you.”

“Double agents?” Rey asks breathlessly. “Dad and Poe never told us about any-”

“They work for me,” Ben says, “they wouldn’t know. And that’s the problem, Rey. One of many.”

“So,” Rey’s mind is reeling, “we need to go to Exegol before the Final Order deploys.”

“The deployment can’t be stopped,” Ben says gravely, “the goal is to kill Darth Plagueis before the Final Order reaches their first target.”

“Which is?” Rey prompts.

Ben gestures to their surroundings.

“Oh,” Rey mumbles, “okay.”

“I don’t want Darth Plagueis to destroy the galaxy,” Ben says, “and I know none of you do either.”

“That’s the general idea, yes,” Rey says flatly.

“So,” Ben asks, “what do you say? You want to meet me on Exegol tomorrow, or will I have to stop him myself?”

The weight of the question may as well be chains rooting her atop the debris. The tidal waves and rain crashes against the shields that Ben erected, and Rey’s jumpsuit is soppy from exiting the X-wing.

Ben was here right now. He was here asking for her help. He was here admitting to her that he was never as Dark as they thought, guiding her on the path to the finish line.

She would be a fool not to take up the offer for assistance. She couldn’t kill Snoke on her own. She needed Ben, the Dark to her Light. 

She just hadn’t expected everything to happen this way.

Rey sighs, “regardless of what anyone says, I’ll be there.”

Ben smiles wanly. “Thank you, Rey.”

-

“Okay,” Poe folds his arms across the map table, Resistance personnel staring at Rey, “you realize how insane this sounds, right?”

Rey beams. “I sure do, boss!”

Finn leans against Poe’s side. “Rey,” he says concernedly, “he wants you to go in alone. No backup from any of us. No more Jedi, just the two of you against the most powerful Darksider in the galaxy’s history.”

“And?” Rey prompts.

“And,” Finn scoffs, “it’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Well,” Han grumbles, “at least we know he’s my son, right?”

Leia shoots him a look. “I’m having a hard time believing this. Does that make me wrong?”

Hera slings her arm around Leia’s. “It doesn’t,” she murmurs, “it really doesn’t. He fooled us all.” Hera nudges her head to Rey’s parents. “He even got them to give up hope.”

Dad and Papa’s remorse permeates in the Force.

“What is certain,” Ahsoka uses the map table to lean comfortably, “is that the Jedi Masters are out of fighting shape. The trainees from Lothal are scattered across the galaxy, making it impossible for them to aid us before it is time for the Final Order to deploy. The Jedi who are here and can fight are being asked to stay away from the battle they have been asked to train for their entire lives. Either way you slice this, it’s not an ideal situation.”

“Boom,” Jacen mimes dropping his pilot’s helmet, “thanks for laying that down for us, Ahsoka. It’s true.” He pouts. “I’m always left out.”

Kanan pats his son’s shoulder, using him as leverage to stand. “What matters is that Ben is not lost as we assumed.” His blind eyes fixate in Rey’s general direction. “When you looked into the Force, what did you see?”

Rey holds back a smile at the question. “There is still good in him,” she reports, “I saw a Light.”

The crowd murmurs with immense interest.

“Are you sure?” An officer pipes up.

“Yes,” Shira says curtly, “I can support Rey’s statements fully.”

The room shifts at the timid Twi’lek’s proclamation.

“May I ask how?” Poe asks curiously.

The room awaits Shira’s words, and she is visibly surprised.

Yet, Shira reveals, “when we were on D’Qar, I stole power cells for our base. I reported to the admiralty that I had no issues, but that was a lie. I was captured by Captain Phasma and taken directly to Ben. When he saw me, he took great pains to stage an escape for me, which worked without a hitch. I was jettisoned from an escape pod and was back at base without a single surveillance microphone on my person within two hours.”

There is silence.

“What kind of Dark Lord,” Shira asks hypothetically, “would do something like that?”

The truth is a ringing bell in the Force. The Jedi in the room feel it, but the civilians titter amongst themselves.

“If my daughter and Shira saw a Light,” Dad projects, “then they saw a Light. I don’t dispute their good judgement,” his eyes blaze across the whispering crowd, “and none of you should either.”

The mumbling fades away.

“Damn,” Papa winks at Dad, “look at you, huh?”

Dad ignores his affectionate expression. He says curtly, “we may not like this situation, especially not me,” his gaze darts over to Rey, “but we have always trusted in Rey to fight for us,” Dad’s eyes sweep over the room, “haven’t we?”

Heads bob in agreement.

“We’re with you, woman!” Jessika stands up on a crate, holding up a pumped fist. “Yeah!”

“Okay,” Suralinda sets the woman on the ground with her species’ advanced strength, “that’s enough of that.”

“Yeah!” Snap claps his hands. “We got your back, Rey!”

Poe snickers as Karé ushers Snap away. Oddy and L’ulo shush Jessika.

“If we provide as much air support as we can to take out that Final Order fleet,” Poe projects, “it would be a big help for Rey to get onto Exegol.” 

He smiles at a flurry of new arrivals by an archway, Rey furrowing her brows as she turns.

“Do you think we can do that?” He asks a group of war veterans in orange suits.

Wedge salutes Poe, a cocky grin on his face. “You bet we can!”

Excited chatter rises up once more at the arrival of Shara, Kes, Wedge, James, Raymus, Winter, and Evaan. Side conversations cease as the veterans stand in uniform. They look to Poe for instruction.

“I need as many able pilots as possible in a starship,” Poe says, “and I need everyone else here providing support.”

Rey watches as the room rises multiple decibels as if in resounding agreement. They would rally for her, for Poe, for Finn and her parents.

Rey is invigorated with new confidence.

————

Kylo’s boots clang against the onyx marble platform as his personal TIE fighter powers down. He had not been gone long, but he sensed a stifling air to the atmosphere.

And that can’t be good.

Kylo ensures his helmet is secured as he glides down the hangar bay. Troopers stand straight upon his arrival, blasters held diagonally while captains offer a rigid salute.

His cape trails past them. He bathes in his shadow aura, covering himself with it like his life depends on it.

Which it does.

Kylo follows the string of darkness yanking him forwards. He rounds several corners and stomps down busy hallways where stormtroopers leap out of his path as if he were a fire hazard.

The atmosphere is at its thinnest when he enters his own quarters.

Captain Phasma sits on the end of his bed in full chrome armor, pointing a blaster rifle to General Hux’s temple.

“Oh, look,” her vocoder chuckles, “here’s your partner in crime.”

Ben’s heart quickens. If he were anywhere else, anyone else, he would bite Phasma’s head off for tempting fate. 

How dare she point a blaster at the only man that makes Ben smile?

But Kylo crosses his arms, his vocoder booming calmly, “your accusations are an offense of the highest order, Captain Phasma. Tread carefully.”

“If anyone should be careful,” Phasma says, finger ghosting over the blaster trigger, “it’s you.”

Phasma noticed far more than she let on in the past. He should have expected it.

Nonetheless, Ben has to stop this, and quickly.

Hux hisses at Phasma’s mask, “if you think you’ll get commendations for exposing me, you’ve never been more wrong. We’re trying to protect you, woman!”

“I never asked for the protection of traitors,” Phasma says coldly, digging the blaster rifle barrel into Hux’s head. “Now, Ren, you’re going to do something for me, or I’ll kill him.”

“And what’s that?” Kylo asks hollowly.

“You’re going to give me your men,” Phasma replies, “and you’re going to do what I say from now on.”

Kylo tilts his mask to the side. He chuckles.

“Alright,” he says, “I don’t care. Take my men. Take my command. You’ve more than earned it. Just leave Hux alone.”

If Phasma is shocked by his words, she gives no indication. Her gloved finger presses against the blaster rifle trigger.

“I wish that were enough,” Phasma hisses.

She pulls the trigger. 

————

Exegol is a shadow of a planet. When Rey flies too closely to the upper atmosphere, she realizes she could not see it against the darkness of space. If it weren’t for the sudden absence of stars forming a black hole, Rey would not have registered Exegol at all.

She lands the X-wing a quarter mile away from the abandoned coliseum that remained of the Sith Citadel. Snoke has been here for years, but none of the Jedi dared to get close to this planet.

The fact that Rey is allowed to land without issue indicates that Darth Plagueis is waiting for her. Perhaps he has been waiting for years.

With her double-sided lightsaber clipped to her utility belt, she smooths out her gray robes and ensures her triple buns are tightly bound. She breathes in the toxic air and observes the perpetually-dark sky crackle with thunder. When no lightning strikes hit, Rey assumes that the energy is self-contained within the clouds.

The sand is blue against Rey’s boots, leaving no footprint. The ground is so cold that it prickles her toes with invisible icicles. 

She moves slower as she grows used to the subatomic freeze within the planet’s core. She assumed the surface of Exegol would be composed of sulfur and magma like Mustafar, but it was a cold so hot that prolonged contact with sand against skin could brand her.

As Rey approaches the onyx structure, an eight-foot space hovering between the sand and the ground floor permits beings to search for the entrance. She passes through the space and squints her eyes at a sliver of light. A figure splits the light in half and approaches slowly.

As the figure becomes clearer, she realizes it is a maskless Ben wearing his hooded robe. His lightsaber is on his hip, on the opposite side of Rey’s own. If it were not for their auras, Rey would think that she was looking in a mirror.

“Hey,” Ben says tightly, conflict warring behind his ashen eyes. 

“Ben,” Rey murmurs, “has something happened?”

Ben hums in affirmation.

“Well,” Rey’s voice wavers in concern, “what?”

Ben’s tumultuous eyes cast downwards. “My double agents were executed today.”

Rey senses the guilt and grief leeching on Ben’s shadow aura. While most believed Ben to be cruel and unemotional, Rey knew he felt so keenly that he took every death on his behalf personally, beat himself up and hated himself for an event that he could not prevent from occurring.

Rey was the same way, and Rey was like her Dad in this regard too. It bothered Rey that anyone in the Resistance would lay down their life for her, and it bothered Ben for the very same reason on his side of the coin.

“I’m sorry,” Rey says genuinely.

Ben sighs, “afterwards, I received a message from Snoke to capture you and bring you here.”

Rey’s mouth dries. “And?”

Ben unclips a set of binders. He looks down at her sheepishly. “If you don’t put these on, he’ll murder me on the spot.”

Rey looks at the binders uncertainly. “Are they Force binders?”

Ben shakes his head.

“Good,” Rey flips over her wrists so her palms were held up, “go ahead.”

Ben binds her wrists with enough wiggle room for her to move her hands. She drops her arms, bound hands resting over her front.

“I’ll need to take your lightsaber too,” Ben says, reaching out towards her side, hand stilling as he waits for permission.

Rey bobs her head.

Ben unclips the lightsaber and straps it on the other side of his belt. He offers her a grimace.

“He’s in there, right?” Rey nudges her head towards the light. Over his shoulder, a ramp designated an entrance into the Sith Citadel.

“He knows we’re here,” Ben sighs, “we need to move or he’ll grow suspicious.”

Ben turns, his robe swirling around his long legs like a cape. Rey follows him step-for-step as their boots crunch the cold sand.

“These double agents,” Rey parses out, “were they your friends?”

Ben takes almost a full minute to answer. “I came to...care for them, yes.”

“Must have been lonely,” Rey says as they ascend the ramp, “being there without anyone to confide in this whole time.”

Ben ducks his head as they enter a dark barren hallway. Rey can only see by using the Force to guide her in the pitch blackness.

“It was the lonely life I was born for,” Ben mumbles in his deep voice, “the life I was meant to live.”

“I don’t believe that,” Rey says, “not for a second.”

“You don’t have to believe it,” Ben says. “We have to be quiet now. I sense him near.”

After a moment, a Light is visible. Rey walks towards it, Ben beside her. His shoulder brushes hers, and she understands they would have to play act to appease Snoke.

Gently, Ben grasps her forearm to mime roughness. Rey clenches her jaw as the single light splits into multiple dots. Those dots become mere winks of brightness in a massive coliseum arena. 

As they enter the main area, Rey senses the Dark spanning above them. She looks up, and the coliseum is populated by shadow auras.

An ice pick digs into her heart with a quiver of fear. She stomps on it as she hears a broken laugh.

“Oh, child,” the voice rasps, Rey’s attention entirely on a shadowy throne laced with spiky tendrils, “your emotions betray you.”

Rey and Ben reach the throne, Ben releasing his grip on her. The throne is made of metal and extends outwards like a steel spider inviting her to be drained of her blood. A shadow mass sits on the throne, a single sliver of light from the side highlighting the scarring on his face.

He is exactly as advertised in Ben’s dreams.

“Thank you, apprentice,” Darth Plagueis hisses, “for bringing the girl. She will make a wonderful replacement for me.”

Rey blinks once, unable to mask her dumb “what?”

Smoke leans forward, the light causing gray-blue eyes to pierce. “My replacement, child,” he rasps, “I know potential when I sense it. You will make a lovely counterpart for my apprentice.”

The shadows above Rey make stomping sounds against the echoing rows. While Rey knows a duel will come from this conversation, she does not enjoy the feeling of the Dark sniffing her out like a chew toy.

“Hm,” Ben says, “it sounds as if you do not want me to ascend to Supreme Leader, my Master.”

“Boy,” Snoke levels out, “you are strong, but not as strong as her. Does that anger you?”

Ben bats his lashes, his eyes darkening for show. “Perhaps,” he replies indecisively.

“Well, then,” Snoke holds out his arm, opening his palm, “either give me her lightsaber, or strike her down in your unseeing petulance.”

Ben walks forward violently, tearing Rey’s lightsaber from his belt and setting it in Snoke’s palm.

“Heel, boy,” Snoke snickers, “there is discipline required to stoke the flames.”

Ben whirls around, refusing to meet Rey’s eyes as he stands beside her again. His hand waves behind his back, and Rey’s binders loosen further.

Rey doesn’t like the way Darth Plagueis speaks to Ben.

Snoke’s gaze lingers on Rey as he twirls her lightsaber between his skeletal fingers. “My aim is simple with you, child,” he says, “you either submit to the Dark, submit to me as your flesh and blood already has…”

He uses Force strength to crush the lightsaber between his fingers. Rey bristles as her kyber crystals spark and die within the metal casing.

Okay...she didn’t know anyone could do that.

“Or,” Darth Plagueis’s eyes glitter as he smirks, “I’ll have my apprentice behead you before my throne.”

Rey narrows her eyes. “I thought you wanted me to succeed you. Make up your mind.”

Snoke’s smile widens. “You’re a feisty little girl. That mouth of yours will get you in trouble.”

Rey holds her head high, roiling with the defiance that drove her family to defy fascism for generations.

“I would rather die,” Rey spits, “so kill me yourself. I know you can.”

“Provocation,” Snoke says amusedly, “will not work with me, girl.” His gaze swivels to Ben. “If she will not obey, hurt her, boy.”

“No,” Ben says fiercely. Rey swears she hears Leia’s voice.

“Boy,” shadows curl around Darth Plagueis as if siphoning off their power to him, “if you do not hurt her, I’ll question your motives.”

Ben chuckles; it cuts through the oxygen supply like a knife.

“You’re not as smart as I thought you were,” Ben quips, stepping forward until he is foolishly close to Snoke on his throne, “do you really think,” he growls as his aura holds back the shadows floating about the throne, “I am your slave?”

The Light within Ben’s aura is unearthed as if discovering a priceless gemstone within an excavated portion of the soil. It advances and grows, the dots of light within the arena drawn to Ben. The shadows scream shrilly as they creep away into the Dark.

A spot of exhaustion weighs on Ben as the Light expands. Rey rushes towards the throne, binders clunking on the stone. Her Light soaks onto Ben’s radiance, the two auras attaching, feeding off of each other.

Rey squeezes the Light like a pulse point, causing it to flare and blind her outer senses. Snoke’s aura is low on energy, and Ben’s is so weak that he collapses by Snoke’s feet.

Deeming Snoke not a threat at the moment, Rey watches the shadows retreat from her as if she is poisonous. She kneels by Ben’s coughing form, watching his skin pale alongside his aura.

Ben exhales, “you can get him, Rey. You can get him.”

Rey realizes the severity of Ben’s situation. It hits her as his heartbeat slows, the energy in his body depleting too quickly to replenish a single drop of it.

Ben’s body is failing him. His weak aura is going to kill him.

Rey breathes shallowly as her hand presses against his broad shoulders. Long raven hair spills out on the stone floor, his scarred pale skin ghostly against the darkness of his robes. His black eyes flicker between her and the ground. When Rey studies his black irises, she notes their gray pallor, indicating he was weakening beyond repair.

“Ben,” she says frantically, “you can’t do this to me!”

Ben hums tiredly, tipping over so that his back rests entirely against the stone. It seems to take all of his energy to complete the task, because his eyes close.

Rey smacks his cheek to startle his eyes into opening again. “Ben! Don’t!”

Rey sucks in a breath as the life begins to leave Ben. It leaves slowly, creeping away as a tendril on Darth Plagueis’s throne.

And she refuses to believe this is happening, because there is no possible way that this is how it ends for Ben Skywalker-Solo. No way.

“Rey,” Ben rasps, his hand moving to clutch at the lightsaber on his belt, “Rey.”

Rey purses her lips, tears rising on her eyelids. “No,” she sniffles, “no. Ben. No.”

“You can,” Ben lets out a gasp as his eyes flutter, “you can finish it. So finish it.” 

A swoop of coldness freezing Rey’s bones has her gasping downwards.

Oh. It is not her body freezing.

It’s Ben’s body that’s freezing over.

“Finish it,” Ben exhales, “please.”

A tear escapes Rey’s eyes and drops on the stone, a millimeter away from coating Ben’s hair in salt.

She knows what she has to do now. She knows.

With determination, Rey inclines her head once in a nod. It is all Ben needs as confirmation.

His lashes flutter closed. The last whisper of life clinging to Ben seeps into the stone, atomizing into invisible molecules.

All Rey wants to do is cry, but she squeezes her eyes shut. She inhales sharply as tears are forced down her cheeks and dry.

With her exhale, she grabs onto Ben’s lightsaber and rises to her full height.

And Darth Plagueis laughs so hard he chokes on air.

Rey faces him with the lightsaber wound tightly between her fingers.

“Oh,” Snoke coughs, “that was a lovely display, girl. Don’t shed your tears for the weakling. It is your turn to stand where he did, child.”

Rey takes a breath so her anger does not overtake her.

“It’s difficult to control your hatred,” Snoke observes, “I see it, girl. I see it coursing through you. Don’t fight it!”

Rey’s boiling blood is reduced to a simmer with a few forced breaths. Her training has never been more important.

“The Dark is in your bloodline!” Snoke encourages. “You are the Darkness, child, just as Kylo Ren was consumed by it. Submit!”

“No,” she says measuredly, “never.”

The shadow auras buffeted back by Ben’s Light creep forward, but are unwilling to make the final step in her direction. Her own Light blazes as a deterrent.

To further her control, Rey uses the Force to unlock Ben’s lightsaber.

Three kyber crystals whoosh to life, but they do not bleed crimson.

They bleed Light.

Searing white starlight drips clear liquid as it thrums in Rey’s grasp. The liquid sears holes in the stone, causing the shadows to jump back.

Rey is filled with the energy, the power from the blade fusing into her bones. It intertwines throughout her very being, until she is the Light and the Light is her. 

She is everything in this moment. She is the wailing heart and the undying star. She is the compass guiding pilots forward and the fire that ignites the Resistance to push against the Final Order. She is the spark in the X-wing engines and the failure within the Star Destroyer coding that shorts their power. 

She is Ben, and she is Rey, and she is the Dark, and she is the Light. She is the balance of the Force, the tug-of-war and the pursuit of peace.

And if she is everything, what did that make Darth Plagueis?

Nothing.

Rey bats her lashes at Snoke on his throne. His eyes are pale water, a silver lake composed of uncertainty. Shadow auras circle around him, the only source of Darkness remaining in the arena.

So Rey grasps the lightsaber hilt in both hands, bends over to pierce the blade through the stone, and screams.

Light pulses with the heartbeat of the galaxy, all the bright beings who ever lived, dead and alive, as the blade explodes with Rey’s energy. The Light blankets her surroundings, extinguishing every inch of Darkness within the entire planet. Rey can feel the shadows burn as the perpetual thunderstorm above the Sith Citadel clears, feel the sparking clouds fizzle out like a loose wire losing power, feel the cold sand melt into a comfortable warmth.

When the Light’s brightness fades into an off-white simmering glow, Rey is greeted by an emptiness on Darth Plagueis’s throne, an absence of Darkness from the planet Exegol. 

And yet, the presence of Ben’s body lying on the stone remains, sobering Rey’s accomplishment.

What was the point of winning if Ben would not live?

His lightsaber collapses, the kyber crystal thrumming within the metal casing. It stutters, a separate heartbeat in Rey’s palm as she kneels beside her cousin.

Ben was gone. She could not heal him like she healed the Shaak. That is certain.

But she would get him out of here.

-

They stand with her as Ben’s funeral pyre burns. All of his naysayers. All of the nonbelievers. All of his supporters. 

When Rey told them the truth, what else could they do but mourn together?

Rey tried to approach Leia and Han numerous times, but her parents held her back as the flames burned.

“Give them today,” Dad mumbles into her ear as he grasps onto her shoulder, “just give them today.”

Papa, who takes up her other side, nods in agreement and smooths out her loose hair. “You did absolutely everything you could,” he says, “and we love you so much for saving him.”

Rey wants to say she didn’t save him, but she knows what Papa means.

Rey studies the clusters of funeral spectators clinging to one another: the Ghost crew, Finn with the Damerons, Leia and Han, the war veterans in the wings, the squadrons of pilots who rested their helmets down as a sign of respect, the Jedi trainees who returned to see Ben one last time and locked arms, the members of the Resistance who bowed their heads.

This is not the ending Rey wanted, but it was the ending she had. Despite the conflict that she was still dealing with about what happened on Exegol, Rey knew this:

She won the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left! *sobs*


	20. Age 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey squints her eyes at Finn. “Be honest. Are you ready?”
> 
> “Of course. Why do you ask?”
> 
> Rey placates a spike of worry in his Force presence with a smile. “I just want to make sure you have no doubts in your mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the Prince and the Bodyguard ‘Verse (unless I can think of something else to do in the future).
> 
> I want to thank everyone who tuned in to my series - anyone who left a kudos, bookmarked my works, wrote a comment, and/or created artwork after feeling inspired by my words. I cannot express how much your continued support means to me and how it drove me forward through some rough patches. I’m so glad that I gained Skybridger fans along the way.
> 
> I started my Skybridger Tumblr blog @toomanyfandoms99-ao3 on a whim, but now I have 50 followers! I genuinely didn’t expect to find so much support! Thank you!
> 
> I want to give a very special thank you to Alwaysandalso and admirabletragedy for being my biggest fans and joining me on this journey. I love talking with you both every day about Star Wars and Skybridger. Your ideas and comments helped me write my best work! You’re both so immensely talented and wonderful friends!
> 
> On to the next project!

Rey walks around Varykino aimlessly. The crowds are setting up communication systems in the parlor room, a mess hall in the kitchen, and a recreation area in the flower fields. As she glides in her purple robes, hair loose at the small of her back, she muses on how strange it was that her ancestral home was converted into a waystation for the emerging Republic. 

Rey was originally against the idea of a sacred place being used for the masses, but when she realized how much wasted space the property had, she was moved to help with the set-up.

And the move was almost finished, just in time for the admiralty to arrive. After they were here, a different kind of ceremony would occur the following day.

“General?”

Rose’s quiet voice captures Rey’s attention. She snaps her head to the side, the young woman entering from the archway.

“The Naberries are here,” Rose informs her.

“Oh,” Rey says, “I’ll see to them.”

Rose dismisses herself, scrambling to help Sabine carry a holo monitor into the parlor room.

Rey crosses the archway and strides into the foyer, where Threepio babbles to the older women, “Mistress Rey will be right with y-oh!” Threepio’s eyes flicker golden as he registers her. “Here she is.”

As Rey approaches Sola, Pooja, Ryoo, and Lola, Chopper wheels in behind her and beeps at them.

“Okay,” Rey placates the combative droid as she approaches, “they’re fine, Chop. Put your weapons away.”

Chopper’s dome swivels towards her, the light in his eye flickering. The razor poking from his metal arm retracts, and he emits a disappointed beep.

“I worry about you, dude,” Rey shakes her head as Chopper wheels away, “sorry about that,” Rey looks up at the Naberries, “that’s the closest thing to security we have right now.”

Ryoo smirks. “I like that droid.”

“Well,” Sola gathers Rey into an easy hug, “you look lovelier every time I see you, dear.”

Rey receives similar hugs from Pooja and Lola.

“Now,” Rey steps back, “would you like to take a tour?”

“We would be delighted,” Pooja says.

-

Rey sits on the porch at sunset, legs crossed in a meditative position on a wicker bench. Starships were landing on the grass fields, split between the cobblestone path and the main road a half-mile away from abandoned properties.

As beings arrive on the cobblestone path, Rey unfolds her legs and rises from the bench. She clasps her hands behind her back to practice good posture and waits by the entrance doors.

She receives a matronly hug from Hera, who asks, “how has the missing half of my crew been holding up?”

“Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper have been very helpful,” Rey reports.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Hera says amicably.

Jacen pats Rey’s shoulder. “Sup, warrior princess?”

“Hey,” Rey peers up at him, “are you wearing platform boots or something? I don’t remember anyone being taller than me.”

Jacen narrows his eyes. Rey narrows hers.

“Maybe,” Jacen mumbles.

Rey snorts in amusement as Kanan takes a half-step in her direction, milky eyes cast downwards. “There is a lot of life here,” he observes, “the Force is strong on this planet.”

Rey bobs her head. “You’ve never been here, have you?”

Kanan hums in contemplation, which she assumes is a negative. 

“It’s paradise, Kanan,” Hera confirms, “like no place I’ve ever been.”

“I can,” Rey says hesitantly, “project an image of the house to you, if you like.”

Kanan murmurs, “can you do it, Jace?”

Jacen stands in front of Kanan, Rey sidestepping to give him room. Jacen inquires, “ready, Dad?”

Kanan bobs his head as Jacen places two fingers on Kanan’s temple. After a beat, Kanan bristles as Jacen pulls back gently.

“Yes,” Kanan concludes, “Ezra did marry well.”

Rey’s mouth upturns. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure your crew will be excited to see you.”

The Ghost crew enters Varykino, and the Damerons walk up next. Shara and Kes both need help walking, so Poe stands in the middle and supports them with an arm.

“Oh,” Shara kisses Rey’s offered cheek, “you look radiant.”

“Thanks,” Rey says weakly, studying Poe’s careful expression, “how’s the groom?”

Poe refuses to meet her eyes. “I’m fine, Rey.”

Rey bats her lashes suspiciously. She’ll corner him later.

For now, she says cordially, “there should be a room prepared for you. Poe-”

“I’ll get caught up on everything here,” Poe interrupts with a pointed cough. He guides his parents inside the house.

Rey greets swaths of new arrivals. The Falcon and the Tantive VII land around the same time. Han and Leia approach together and are reserved when they greet her. She knows why; they couldn’t see past Ben.

Rey thought about Ben every day. Months ago, Rey tried searching the Living Force for his ghost, but the afterlife was desolate. The Jedi now wondered what would happen when they died. Would they be gone like Ben? Gone forever?

Rey is too young to ponder it. 

Also, Rey tracked down Phasma and captured her shortly after the First Order’s dismantlement. The Resistance gave Phasma a new purpose: hunting First Order officers who fled the wreckage and imprisoning them for war crimes. In exchange, Phasma’s information about Ben enlightened the group about his affection for Admiral Hux.

Previously, Rey had not given the redhead much thought, but upon recalling Ben’s defeated expression on Exegol, she realized that Phasma spoke of a tragic love. Hux was executed by Phasma herself, and the action caused Ben such anguish that his scream resulted in the marble floor cracking as if moved by a violent tectonic plate shift. 

It explains everything far too well, especially Ben’s reluctance to survive the duel, and everyone was somber for weeks following the conversation with Phasma.

Finally, her parents arrive up the cobblestone path with Finn. Rey has not seen them in several weeks, and she could tell how much they aged in so little time. 

Papa’s long wavy hair was peppered with gray amongst the thick raven strands, tied back in a semi-ponytail. His navy robes enhance his copper skin in the sunset, as well as bring attention to his wrinkles. He grins beneath his beard and his dark blue eyes glitter when he sees Rey, gathering her in a warm hug.

“Hey, honey,” Papa rubs her back, “I missed you.”

“Of course you did,” Rey murmurs, “I’m the light of your lives.”

Papa chuckles. “You sure are. And don’t you forget it.”

Dad nudges Papa away, his silver-blonde hair and bright blue eyes filling her vision. “Come here,” Dad opens his arms and Rey goes into them, “how’s my baby been?”

“I haven’t been a baby in a long time,” Rey says, “and I’m alright.”

“Are you?” Dad pulls back, his wrinkled face contemplative. “Are you really?”

“As well as can be expected.”

Dad bobs his head once. “Right.”

“Stop bumming her out,” Papa chides Dad, “it’s our son’s weekend, remember?”

Rey smiles gratefully at Papa, then strong-arms Finn into a sibling hug. She squeezes his sides so hard that he coughs, “star’s sake, Rey! You’re strong, we get it!”

Rey peers down at Finn. “Are you ready to become our parents?”

“Hey,” Papa says, “we’re not so bad, are we?”

Rey and Finn stare at Papa and Dad.

“Okay,” Papa rolls his eyes while locking arms with Dad, “we’re too much sometimes.”

“All the time,” Finn revises.

“Okay, okay,” Dad bats his hand, “we’ll leave you to talk.” He mutters to Papa, “they’re so rude.”

“Oh, darling,” Papa pouts as they enter the foyer, “it’s sad for you to learn, I know.”

Rey squints her eyes at Finn. “Be honest. Are you ready?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

Rey placates a spike of worry in his Force presence with a smile. “I just want to make sure you have no doubts in your mind.”

“That makes me want to have doubts in my mind, you know,” Finn says playfully, “though I won’t allow you to trick me by overthinking, Rey.”

“Good,” Rey chimes, “I hope we can make some better memories in this place.”

“Last time was nice,” Finn says with a shrug.

“You’re only saying that because Poe was all over you. And that attitude hasn’t changed,” she arches a speculative brow, “I’m sure?”

Finn arches a brow. “Okay, what is going on with you? There’s an ulterior motive here.”

Poe’s uncertainty from earlier permeates Rey’s thoughts and won’t let go. She is careful not to project these feelings to Finn or any of the other Force sensitives lurking about the household, but the image lingers. It will linger until her questions are answered.

Rey punches Finn’s arm lightly. “Nothing, dude. You’re having pre-wedding jitters. Or should I say delusions?”

Finn gapes. “Delusions? Really, Rey?” He shakes his head, an easy smile lighting up his face. “You’re as weird as ever. I missed you.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “Of course you did.”

Finn passes through the double doors of Varykino. After Rey checks that the starships are docked safely, she shuts the doors behind her.

-

The wedding is set up outside. Everyone at Varykino pitched in to help overnight and into the morning of the ceremony. The vows would be exchanged in the flower fields overlooking the lake nearest to Varykino. The day was sunny but not uncomfortably so, the breeze was light and harmless, and the clouds were puffy in the sky. 

It would be a beautiful day, and Rey believes it is a gift from whatever gods lay amongst the stars. The Force wills this marriage, but Rey’s mind nags on the image she was privy to upon the arrival of the guests the previous afternoon.

Since Finn asked Rey to guide him down the aisle for the ceremony, she was to wear the preferred colors of the sun that Poe and Finn had chosen: red, orange, and yellow. Whether meant to represent the sunrise or the sunset, Rey was unsure, but she appreciated the symbolism nonetheless. 

Rey dresses around mid-morning in the garments that the women of the wedding party had to wear: an ombré knee-length summer dress that went, shoulders down, from soft yellow to deep red for the skirt. Dad also gifted Rey with Alderaanian hair pins, which he finally explained to her.

‘These pins represent flame lilies,’ Dad had said, ‘my favorite flower from Alderaan.’ He frowned, ducking his head as the pins were twirled between his fingers. ‘I never told you anything because I wanted to spare you, but I hurt you more than I intended. I’m sorry, Rey.’ The pins fall into a palm, which splay open as he offers them to her, heavy gaze lifting to meet hers. ‘When I was a prince, they called me the Flame Lily of Alderaan. I was the very spirit and fire of the planet. I never gave up memorializing their lives, making sure anybody who was listening knew about Alderaan...until you, that is.’ He sighs. ‘I never gave in back then, never gave into the grief. It stays with me still. Perhaps I should have. Now everything just...stays.’ 

He clears his throat so he does not veer too far into his own mind.

Dad murmurs, ‘I’ll tell you everything, Rey. I think I have to, and that starts with these pins, and the flowers they are based upon. So you can have these. Just know,’ he pushes his hands forward, fingers intertwining as the pins spill into her palm, ‘when you wear these, you remind everyone of what the galaxy lost, but you also remind them what we found: community, shared loss, and love.’

Rey secures the flame lily pins in her hair. They are bundled into a complex array of braids within a centric bun. The pins hold her usual stray strands in place behind her ears, showing off her sharpened features. She knew how important symbolism was to her fashionable Dad, and she would follow his inclination.

With her look complete, Rey breezes down the surprisingly-quiet hallway.

And finds Poe sitting in a nook, undisturbed and dressed down in a gray shirt and maroon pants. His knees are pulled up to his chest as he stares at a spot on the floor. His hair is a mop of curls, but he does not care to fix them; he is lost in his own thoughts.

This was the same wall nook that Rey and Finn sat in as children whilst observing her great-grandparents’ funeral service. 

Why was Poe sitting there when that nook brought conflicting memories?

Rey doesn’t like this at all. It is not even a question of if she’s going to do something about this disturbing image.

She is already sitting down next to Poe and speaking.

“If you’re having doubts about this wedding,” Rey says fiercely, “you better tell somebody right now, because there is absolutely no way in any Corellian hell that I’m letting you near my brother if you’re indecisive.”

Poe’s gaze lifts from the floor. His moppy head precedes wide eyes.

“That’s not my problem, Rey,” Poe says with a rapid series of blinks, “and you know that I would never-”

“I do,” Rey interrupts, “but whatever this is?” She gestures to his conflicted expression. “This needs to be resolved.”

Poe worries his lip. “It’s not about Finn, marrying Finn. That’s...I’m happy that I’m marrying him. I love him. He makes me so happy that I pinch myself when he smiles at me, that he’s there for me and understands me like no one else, how he just...knows things, knows what I’m thinking, knows me. That’s not the issue here, Rey.”

“Then what is?” Rey asks impatiently.

Poe turns away, stares at the floor again for so long that she wonders if he’s ever going to answer.

But he says, “this is going to sound so kriffing stupid that you’ll slap me.” 

He sighs and looks back at Rey. He pauses again.

He forces out, “I hated planning this wedding. Hated it so much. I don’t fucking care about,” he is emboldened as he says passionately, “I don’t care about what kriffing color the tables are or what type of glass is best for champagne or if the wedding arch has lattice work or is decorated with blasted roses or daisies!”

Poe tips his head towards the ceiling as he emits a groan.

“I know your Dad helped a lot, but,” he rubs his face with one hand, “I don’t care about the wedding ceremony! I just want to marry him and be done!”

Poe exhales through his nose as his hand drops on the nook bottom. He levels his head and closes his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry. That’s probably not what the sister of the man I’m marrying wants to hear, and I know it’s stupid, but it’s just been...you know. Ugh.”

“If you just wanted him,” Rey says, refraining from chuckling, “you should have eloped like my parents did the first time.”

Poe’s eyes snap open as his head whiplashes. “What?!”

Rey laughs; it’s one of the many details she was glad to learn when her parents sat her down and told her their story.

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Rey explains, “or so I’m told. They didn’t have the big wedding until after the war.”

Poe sighs, “I should have done that. We should have, I mean.”

“Well, now that we’re here in this mess,” Rey shrugs, “you either have to make the most of it,” Rey smirks as an idea pops into her head.

“What?” Poe wonders.

“Or,” Rey’s smirk widens, “you can get someone here to marry you before the ceremony.”

Poe pitches forward. “The ceremony is in two hours, and I haven’t even dressed yet!”

Rey snorts in amusement. “I doubt Finn has either. Come on, is there someone you want to marry you beforehand?”

Poe ducks his head, eyes darting everywhere as he struggles to think. He scratches his curly bed head and sighs.

“The only one I know who marries people in the Resistance is your Dad,” Poe says, “but I feel weird asking since he’s the one planning this wedding with me. Would he find that offensive?”

Rey shakes her head. “I think he would like it.”

“Really?” Poe asks weakly.

“He won’t be offended at all,” Rey says to assure him, “in fact, I can ask him if he’ll marry you right now.”

“But I look terrible.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “Finn won’t look the best either. Now come on. What do you say? Do you want to marry Finn to take the pressure off or not?”

Poe smiles in a bout of delirium at the suggestion. “I would do anything to marry him right now.”

“Good,” Rey stands, holding out her hand, “let’s ask.”

Poe takes the companionable hand and Rey guides him down the hallway. They pass a couple closed doors before she senses the rest of her family behind a specific one.

Rey slips her hand from Poe’s and knocks on the door with the rap of her knuckles. “Hey, Finn?”

“Yeah?” Finn asks confusedly from behind the wooden door.

“Dad and Papa in there with you?”

“Yeahhhhh,” Papa asks, “what’s up?”

“Dad?” Rey prompts.

“Yeah?” Dad steps near the closed door.

“Would you mind marrying Poe and Finn right now?” Rey projects.

“Uh,” Dad asks, “what?”

“Would you mind,” Rey repeats, “marrying Poe and Finn right now?”

Dad twists the doorknob and opens it. His blue eyes peek out from the crack of the door as his attention flickers between a fully-dressed Rey and a messy Poe.

Rey says, “Poe wants to get married before the ceremony. Do you think Finn will go for it?”

Dad blinks whilst regarding her, as well as Poe’s steady gaze in support of Rey’s words.

He disappears from the ajar door without another word spoken, and Finn takes his place. As Rey expected, he had not yet dressed in his suit. He wore a beige shirt and tight black pants.

Finn’s gaze flickers downwards in embarrassment. “Oh, h-hi Poe. I thought we were doing the whole ‘wait until the ceremony to see each other’ thing.”

Poe is steadfast and certain as he says measuredly, “it’s been a rough night without you, Finn. But this isn’t about that.” He scratches his head and shakes out his curls. “Uh, I was wondering,” he flushes, “did you want to get married right now?”

“Right now?” Finn asks dumbly. “Like...right now?” He squeaks at the prospect. “But we...we’re not dressed.”

“You look beautiful,” Poe says easily.

Finn bats his lashes. “You want to get married right now, and you want Luke to marry us?”

Poe bobs his head. “You’re all I care about, Finn. I want to marry you now. As in right now. Where no one can see us or will know about it except us.”

Finn does not contemplate the decision. “I accept.”

As Poe beams, Finn tilts his head towards Rey.

“Was this your idea?” He poses.

Rey’s gaze glimmers. “I was just thinking about our parents’ elopement and figured you two could use that.”

Finn shrugs. “You’re not wrong.” He sends his bright smile to Poe before disappearing back into the room. “Do you know where we can go, Dad?”

“Hm,” Dad opens the door fully and exits with an amused Papa linking their arms, “there are plenty of great spots. I don’t know if I can narrow them down.”

“I can,” Rey chimes, “I know where to go.”

“Do you?” Papa smiles proudly. “And where’s that?”

“Follow me!”

Dad and Papa closes the door as Poe, Finn, and her parents follow her to the side of Varykino. Since an entire area of the household was boarded up for their privacy, they do not run into any of the guests setting up in the backyard.

Rey opens a side door and reveals a small balcony. Flowers and trellises decorate the wild space and provide a side view of the flower fields. A single staircase to the left guides them downstairs and onto the grass.

“This balcony,” Rey says as they gape at the secret part of the house, “is where my grandparents eloped.”

“It is?” Papa nudges Dad’s side. “You never told me that!”

“I didn’t know,” Dad says somberly, studying the vases of untamed flower arrangements and eyes glazing over as he speculates about the past.

Poe and Finn step forward, both standing to face each other by the balcony. The afternoon sun hits them at an angle, and they share a smile.

“This is nice, huh?” Poe murmurs.

“Yeah,” Finn stares at Poe, “it’s nice.”

Poe takes both of Finn’s hands in his. “This is how we do it, right?”

“Mhm,” Finn turns to garner Dad’s attention, “we’re ready.”

“Not without us, I hope.”

Shara and Kes walk out onto the balcony. The pair come to stand near Poe’s side while Rey and Papa stand by Finn. Dad smiles from his position between the couple.

“I see you got my message,” Dad chirps. 

Papa winks at Poe. “We knew you’d forget, kid.”

Poe flushes in supreme guilt. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad.”

“We know how you are, dear,” Shara smiles at Poe, “now get yourself married.”

“Okay,” Poe says softly, his smile directed towards his parents. He practically giggles as he meets Finn’s eyes.

Dad begins, “we are gathered here today…”

-

When the actual wedding ceremony is over, Rey sits on the roof of Varykino. The reception was still occurring in the backyard, but Poe and Finn left to deflower one another a while ago. 

Even though the ceremony was a few short hours earlier, Rey only remembers the secret exchanging of vows on the balcony where her grandparents married. 

Rey had unbound her tight braided bun as she was forced to dance with everyone at the party. She needed to get away from it all, so she left her hair loose as she used the Force to leap onto the roof. She knew no one was crazy enough to bother her up there. 

The sun setting before her gaze resulted in contemplation. Her story started here, in this house, after being torn away from her blissful state at age five. Her old self would have been content running around the flower fields, swimming in the lake, and toddling around the house seeking imaginary adventures. 

As long as she had her Papa, who dedicated every second of every day to her, and her Dad, who returned from his consultant work to hold her close and sing her to sleep, she would have had a peaceful life.

She is glad she didn’t have that life. It took a long time for her to accept the move to Lothal, but she was better for Finn’s and her extended family’s presence in her life.

She doesn’t regret anything that’s happened to her since leaving this house, whether against her wishes or something she chose to happen. 

Time is a circle. She has reached the end, but the beginning would be different this time.

As Rey watches the sunset, she wills the beginning to be different this time.


End file.
